


Earth, Sea and Sky

by SigmaCreations



Category: Spooks | MI-5
Genre: Beach Holidays, Beach Sex, F/M, Falling In Love, Family Issues, Oral Sex, Requited Love, Sex, Workplace Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-18
Updated: 2012-06-18
Packaged: 2018-06-06 09:25:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 79,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6748237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SigmaCreations/pseuds/SigmaCreations
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU set in 1980s, a chance meeting between a much younger Harry and Ruth on Crete...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Tuesday, June 5 th, 1981_

_Oxford_

 

“It's open,” Ruth calls in response to the knock at her door.

“Have you thought about it?” Maria asks eagerly as she walks into her best friend's room.

“Yes,” Ruth replies with a smile, getting up from her bed and walking over to her desk where she rummages through the papers that are scattered across it.

“And?” Maria asks impatiently.

“I can come for four weeks,” Ruth smiles, turning to face her.

“Yes!” Maria shrieks and flings herself at Ruth, hugging her tightly. Then she releases her and practically skips about the room waving her arms about and exclaiming, “We're going to have _so_ much fun. I will show you _everything_. Think of all those ancient temples and statues we're going to see, the beautiful sea we're going to dive into, and the torrid affairs we'll have with hot, Greek men.”

Ruth smiles happily at the delight of her friend's joy and can't resist asking, “Affairs? We're having more than one, are we?”

“Oh, yes,” Maria turns to her and grins, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. “Greek men are great for short, hot encounters, and what could be better than a different one every night? It's not as if we'll see any of them again. You'll be back in England soon enough, ready to defend your country.”

Ruth laughs at the light-hearted remarks of her best friend. It's one of the things that she loves about her and probably what drew them together in the first place. Maria enjoys a good time and Ruth, being a very serious kind of person, has always found that characteristic irresistible in others. Not that Maria isn't capable of being serious. In fact, she's very smart and they spend a lot of their time discussing anything and everything, confiding in each other and sharing a bond as strong as if they were sisters. And that's another thing Ruth loves about her, having someone to share her experiences with, having a confidante. It's something that she'll miss immensely now that they've graduated and are preparing to go their separate ways. Maria's planning to go back home to Greece and hoping to get a position working in the National Archaeological Museum in Athens. Ruth is off to GCHQ in August. They both know that life is pulling them apart, and though the bond they have formed will not be severed completely, they will also not remain as close as they are now.

 

 

_Thursday, July 5 th, 1981_

_140 Gower Street_

 

“Harry?” Jack Reynolds calls from his office door. “My office, please.”

Harry Pearce looks up from his table where he's writing up his report. His hazel eyes glance at his boss's office and he frowns. Getting up, he pulls a folder over the sheet of paper he's been writing on, and walks briskly to the door, where he knocks once before walking through the open doorway.

“Sir?” he says as he stops in front of Reynold's desk.

The man looks up from the file in front of him and gets straight to the point, “You have contacts in Greece, don't you?”

“Yes, Sir,” Harry replies with a puzzled frown.

“Good,” Jack Reynolds nods. “Six is getting a little worried about the political situation down there, what with them joining the EEC and their elections coming up in October. They would like to send someone in to keep an eye on things for a little while. The chap's name's Porter, Fredrick Porter. They've requested that you go out there with him for a couple of weeks to help out and pass on your contacts.”

Harry frowns, “But surely they have agents already on the ground there that can make the introductions?”

Jack looks at him critically for a few seconds. Then he places his elbows on the table, and leaning forward, he says, “They were _very_ reluctant to let you go, what is it now? Twenty-two months ago? You have much experience, Harry, and are an excellent operative. I've agreed to this brief, shall we say, vacation? So that they stop trying to poach you from Five again.” He leans back in his chair and folds his hands behind his head before adding, “Anyhow, it should be a nice break for you, Harry. Might even get to visit the beach, or some ancient ruins while you're out there.”

“I'd rather remain here, Sir,” Harry replies, but seeing the other man about to protest, he quickly adds, “When am I leaving?”

“Good man,” Jack smiles and turns back to his work before adding, “Tomorrow. Malcolm has the details.”

Harry's surprised by the short notice, but he says nothing and walks out of the room to find Malcolm.

 

 

_Monday, July 9 th 1981_

_Athens_

 

Harry's sitting in a café reading the newspaper. Well, actually, he's _pretending_ to read the newspaper and is instead observing his surroundings. In fact, he muses as he waits patiently, he would not be able to read the newspaper even if he wanted to; it's all Greek to him. Two tables down from him sits Fredrick Porter, whom he's worked with briefly before. Though he's not one of the brightest agents Six has on its payroll, Porter is a steady worker and a pleasant fellow, and Harry's happy to be helping him out. They're waiting for an asset to arrive. It's hot today, probably in the high thirties, and he's grateful for his light cotton clothing. Both he and Fred are dressed to blend in with the locals, and they've even applied some light tanning lotion to their bare arms and faces to disguise their rather white, British skin.

Harry still isn't sure what he's doing here. He understands the concerns regarding the political situation in Greece, and he can sense the excitement running through the local population. There are numerous political rallies going on and discussions between the men at the cafés are heated. There's concern that the communist party is gaining too much support, however, according to his other assets, these reports seem to be mistaken. It's the socialist party that's favourite to win the elections, something that the Cousins won't be happy about, but it's nowhere near as problematic as a communist victory would prove to be.

He spots his asset, Artemis, passing by the café. He waits a beat, and then he calls the waiter in his limited Greek and pays for his coffee. Harry has a good ear for languages and can reproduce accents reasonably well, however, he has never bothered to study any language systematically enough to learn it well. In every country he's been stationed, he's found it possible to get by, by merely pick up some useful words and phrases. As a rule, he understands a lot more than he speaks, and he's always found this invaluable in the field. People will reveal a lot of information to a man who feigns ignorance of the language without even realising it.

He gets up, and leaving the paper on the table, he walks out and wonders down the street at a leisurely pace. A couple of minutes later, Fred leaves too. They follow Artemis for a couple of blocks at a discreet distance from her and each other before they enter a very narrow alley with a green side door about half way down it. Harry waits for Fred outside, and once he arrives, they wordlessly check their guns and then walk in together, scanning their surroundings quickly for any signs of a trap.

“It's safe,” Artemis murmurs in lightly accented English from the corner of the room.

The men nod to her, but continue to the two doorways leading out of the room, making sure that they are indeed alone. A kitchen and a bathroom are the only other rooms in the house and both are empty. They walk back into the living room, their gazes rapidly and professionally taking in and analysing their surroundings. The place is covered in a thin film of dust, there are only an old table and two chairs for furniture, and all three windows, two facing the street and one the alley, are boarded up.

“Nice place,” Harry murmurs, and then turning to Fred, he says, “Poseidon, this is Artemis. Artemis, this is your new handler, Poseidon. You can still use the regular drop; it remains uncompromised.” Fred and the woman look at each other appraisingly for a few moments, and then they both nod. “Good,” Harry continues. “Now, Artemis, do you have any news for us?”

“Nothing new,” Artemis replies. “The left is getting weaker now that the socialist party is here. It's likely that they'll win the election.”

Fred nods and says, “That's our assessment also. Thank you.”

They look at each other for a few moments, nod their goodbyes, and then wordlessly, they leave one at a time.

 

 

_Sunday, July 15 th, 1981_

_Crete_

 

Ruth looks out across the sea from her bedroom window. The view is spectacular and she has to admit that this trip has been amazing. Part of her is envious of the beauty and history that Maria's country has. Britain has history and beauty too, but not in the same breathtaking way. Over the last three weeks, Maria has taken her to visit all the most famous archaeological sites in Greece. They started in Thessaloniki, then moved down to Meteora, Delphi, Athens, the Peloponnese and now they're on Crete. They visited Knossos yesterday, and today they've decided that they've had enough of ancient sites and are ready to relax on the beach for the remaining three days of Ruth's stay in Greece. Ruth takes deep breaths of the refreshing, salty air and goes back inside to get ready for a swim.

 

* * *

 

Harry's leaning over the railing of the yacht as it speeds through the surf towards the island. He loves boats. When he was a boy, he used to sail with his father and brother. Happy memories fill his mind, and he takes deeps breaths of the sea air while a smile plays on his lips.

His companion says, “I haven't seen you smile like that since our days at Oxford.”

Harry turns to his friend and murmurs, “I haven't had a single day off since our days at Oxford.”

John laughs and claps him on the shoulder before saying, “Good job you accepted this assignment then, isn't it?”

Harry turns to him and eyes him critically. “You're the reason I'm here,” he states matter of factly as the truth finally dawns.

“You always were as sharp as a razor,” he replies, looking out over the water. “We needed an experienced man out here anyway, but I pulled a few strings to make sure it was you.”

Harry watches him for a little while and then turns away, saying, “Thanks.”

“What are friends for, eh?” John replies and turns back toward the helm where his wife has the wheel.

It's beautiful out here on the sea with no one around. Harry glances to his right and watches as a couple of dolphins appear in the water. They jump clean out of the sea and splash back in, swimming under the boat and coming out on the other side. Harry chuckles as he watches them race the boat and feels a weight suddenly lift from his heart. It's just over a year since his divorce, and it's been weighing on him like a ton of bricks, and in that moment, he realises that John's right – he needs this break. He'll have to find a way to repay his friend for arranging it.

 

* * *

 

Maria and Ruth set off for the beach on a moped. They've decided to go to a village called Platanas that's not far from their lodgings in Chania. When they get there, they sit down on some beach chairs that belong to the local bar and order some drinks, which they sip contentedly as they lie in the sun, occasionally getting up to go for a swim in the sparkling blue, calm waters. They eat lunch in a taverna, and after some discussion, during which they both realise that they're bored with just lying on a beach, they decide to head up the coast and explore.

 

They find a dirt road that leads off into some olive groves and follow it down until it stops in a small clearing that is obviously there to turn cars around. They leave the moped behind and go for a walk amongst the olive trees, and after a short nap in the shade, they spot a secluded beach down below. They set off with renewed energy and are delighted to find that it's not very far, though it's rather a steep climb. Soon they're swimming in the clear, blue water of their own private beach.

 

* * *

 

It's three o'clock by the time they reach Crete. The sun is hot and they drop anchor in a small cove with a sandy beach that John and his wife, Lesley, have been to before.

“It looks like we have company today,” John remarks to Lesley, nodding to a couple of people swimming near the beach. “I wonder how they got here. I don't see a boat.”

“Pity,” Lesley replies with a grin. “I was hoping we could do some skinny dipping.”

“I'm sure they can't see you from all the way over there, Darling,” John smiles. “Harry will though.”

“Don't stop on my account,” Harry murmurs with a smirk.

Lesley laughs and John grumbles good naturedly, “Go find your own bird to ogle, Mate.”

“There are two to pick from right there, Harry,” Lesley observes, and the men turn toward her to see her peering though some binoculars at the two people swimming near the beach. “Oh my, _and_ they're skinny dipping,” she adds a moment later as they come out of the water. John and Harry simultaneously make a move toward her to get the binoculars, but Lesley just laughs and holds them out of reach saying, “Now, now, boys, give the ladies some privacy.”

Harry gives up and turns toward the beach again. They're too far out to see any detail, but both women have lovely figures. They're putting their swimming costumes on again, probably because they've seen the yacht.

“Lovely,” John murmurs shortly and then nudges Harry on the arm with the binoculars before adding, “Take a look.”

Harry obliges. One of the women has long dark hair, and her body is tanned and slim. The other is shorter with shoulder-length chestnut hair, but her body has more generous curves than her friend's and her skin looks creamy and soft. The tall girl says something to her companion, and running to the water in a graceful sprint, she dives in. As she surfaces, Harry can see her laughing and spluttering, and for a moment, her naked breasts peak out of the water before she turns her back to him and looks at her companion. Harry focuses the binoculars on the other girl and sees her burst out laughing at the predicament her friend finds herself in. She doubles over with laughter and Harry can't help smiling.

“Let's go and introduce ourselves,” Lesley says when she sees the smile on Harry's lips. “Shall we swim out?”

“Yes, let's,” John replies and dives in.

Lesley follows and Harry quickly removes his shirt and shorts and joins them as they swim out to shore. The men lag behind Lesley, deliberately making sure that they're not the first to arrive; they don't want to scare the girls. Lesley gets to the shore first and calls out, “Come on, you slow coaches.” Then, taking a few steps forward, she speaks to the tall girl. “Hi. I'm Lesley. Do you speak English? I thought I'd introduce myself since we're the only ones on this beach.”

“Hi,” the tall girl answers in a light voice with a slight accent. “I'm Maria and this is Ruth.”

“Hello,” Ruth says quietly.

John gets out of the water and approaches the group with a lazy smile. Lesley takes his hand and says, “This is John, my husband, and that's our friend Peter over there.”

The girls shake hands with John and look towards Harry who raises a hand in greeting.

“How on earth did you two get here?” John asks suddenly glancing around the beach looking for some means of transport.

“We walked down from up there,” Maria informs him, indicating the steep incline to their left.

“We should actually be getting back soon,” Ruth adds. “It was quite a long way.”

“We could give you a lift,” Lesley offers. “We'll be going to Chania later.”

“Thanks,” Ruth replies, “but we have a moped up there.”

“Oh, John'll drive that back for you. Won't you, Darling?” Lesley volunteers her husband immediately.

“Yes,” John replies without hesitation. “I could do with a walk to stretch my legs after that long trip. We just got here from Athens.”

“We couldn't possibly let you do that!” Ruth exclaims. “It's too much trouble. We'll set off now and we'll be fine.” She begins collecting her things.

Lesley and John try to insist, but the girls will not give in and leave shortly afterwards, climbing up through the olive grove. “Damn,” Lesley says under her breath as she watches them go. “There goes our chance for company.”

“Never mind,” John replies, sliding an arm round her waist and pulling her to him. “We'll meet other people tomorrow.”

“Yes,” she acknowledges, “but I was hoping that Harry would take a fancy to one of them.”

“Oh, no,” John laughs, “not one of your match making schemes! Poor Harry.”

“I'm not match making,” Lesley replies indignantly, “but you have to agree that he's looking a little glum. A nice holiday romance is just the thing he needs to cheer him up.”

“You might be right,” John murmurs as he lowers his lips toward hers, “but believe me, Harry's never needed any help getting women in his bed.”

“A nudge in the right direction can't hurt,” she replies and leans in to kiss him.

Harry surfaces from a dive and glances around him. He spots his two companions on the beach engaged in what can only be described as a very good snog. Lucky bastards, he thinks, and deciding to leave them to it, he turns round and swims towards the boat. He reaches it, and climbing aboard, he grabs a towel and begins to dry himself. Then sitting comfortably in the afternoon sun, he switches on the radio and scrolls through the channels, listening to each one for a little while before moving on. Eventually he settles on one he likes, and grabbing a beer from the cooler next to him, he takes a sip and closes his eyes in bliss as he relaxes back against the cushions. It's so good to slow down and have nothing to worry about for a few days. It's not something he could get used to, but it's refreshing for a little while, and hopefully, when he gets back, he'll have renewed energy for work. He realises that he's been running on empty for some time now, and this break is probably doing him a world of good.


	2. Chapter 2

_Sunday, July 15 th, 1981_

_Crete_

 

The girls arrive back at their rooms at dusk. They have showers and change, but despite their tired limbs, they choose to go out to the centre of town.

“We only have two days left here and we still haven't found any lovely, Greek men,” Maria laments.

“I'm happy with the temples and statues to be honest,” Ruth replies. She is not going to object to a little romance on a Greek island, but she isn't desperate to go looking for it either.

They wonder through the lively streets near the port and find a bar where they order drinks. Presently, a couple of good looking, young, Greek men come over and offer to buy them another, so they accept and make room for them at their table. They chat with them easily, and Ruth notices that her friend is really taken with Andreas, the taller of their two companions. They talk about Crete and the other parts of Greece they've visited over the last few weeks, and when they've finish their drinks, the men invite them for a stroll along the shore and they set off, Ruth and Kostas walking in front with Maria and Andreas following them. They make their way along the shore, and eventually, Ruth finds herself alone with Kostas; heaven knows where the others have got to.

Despite enjoying his company, Ruth doesn't feel any attraction towards him. He's good looking with his dark hair and chocolate eyes, but there is no spark between them, so she makes up her mind to call it a night. She stops walking in a well lit part of the street and turns toward him. “Thank you for a lovely evening, Kosta, but I think I'll head back to my room now,” Ruth says.

“Okay,” he replies and turns to walk back the way they came. They make it a few paces before he moves closer to her and wraps his arm around her shoulders, pointing up into the sky and saying, “Look at the moon, Ruth. Isn't it beautiful?”

“Yes, it is,” Ruth replies, trying to wriggle herself free and put some distance between them again. Kostas, however, doesn't give up that easily. He leans forward and Ruth turns her head just in time to avoid a kiss on the mouth. Instead his lips connect with her cheek briefly before he pulls back. Ruth realises that she needs to be blunt with this man as he seems to think that she's still interested in him and is just playing hard to get.

“There you are, Ruth,” a man's voice interrupts her thoughts.

Kostas releases her, and Ruth turns warily to look at the new arrival. The man is older, in his thirties, broad shouldered, and tanned. He's wearing a dark blue shirt, which is open at the collar and rolled up at the sleeves, tan trousers, and leather sandals. His face is in shadow, but as he moves forward, she recognizes him as Peter, one of the men from the boat that she met earlier today, and as their gazes meet, she feels a shiver run down her spine and her mouth suddenly goes dry. He has beautiful, warm, hazel eyes, and in them she sees concern, admiration, and she thinks, a flicker of desire, but she can't be certain. He glances at her companion, and she notices a hardness appear in his gaze and something dark stir in the depths of his eyes, but it's gone as soon as he looks away, making her think she's imagined it.

“Hello,” she smiles at him.

“Shall we go then?” he asks, returning her smile and offering her his arm. “Lesley and John are waiting.”

“By all means,” Ruth murmurs and slips her hand through his arm. “Goodnight, Kosta.”

“Goodnight,” Kostas replies and sadly watches them walk away.

“Thank you,” Ruth says to Harry as they turn the corner.

“My pleasure,” he replies in a deep, husky voice that makes her knees go weak and her insides begin to melt.

They walk silently along the shore toward the harbour. Ruth is busy analysing the physical effect Peter's presence is having on her, and Harry's shocked into silence by his own body's reactions. When he saw Ruth trying to get away from that man, he'd stepped forward to help her out of gentlemanly concern for a female in distress. But when their gazes had met, he'd felt hot desire bubble up inside him and a strong instinct to protect her. It's the latter that surprises him so much. He's sure that if the other man hadn't stepped back right away, he would have physically assaulted him.

“Peter! There you are,” Lesley's voice interrupts both their musings and they turn towards the sound. Lesley and John are sitting at the bar where he'd left them to go for a walk, so he steers Ruth toward them. “Ruth,” Lesley smiles as they stop at their table, “how lovely to see you again. Come join us.”

“Thank you,” Ruth replies and sits down in the chair Harry pulls out for her.

“What can I get you?” Harry asks her gently.

“I think I'll just have some water, thanks,” Ruth murmurs in response. “I've reached my limit for alcohol today.”

“Oh, come now,” Lesley complains. “You're on holiday. We'll make sure you get home safely.”

“Thanks,” Ruth says with a blush, “but I wouldn't want to make myself a nuisance again.”

“What do you mean again?” John asks. “You wouldn't let us help you earlier.”

Ruth looks at the table as she replies timidly, “Peter just rescued me from a charming bloke who was finding it hard to accept no for an answer. If he hadn't turned up, I would have had to knee the poor man in the groin or something.” The others chuckle at the image her words have evoked, realising from the lightness of her voice that things had not really been that bad.

“That's just like Peter,” Lesley laughs. “Can't stop himself from helping a lady in distress.”

Harry looks away embarrassed and turns towards the bar to order their drinks. He returns with them shortly and sits down next to Ruth, handing her the water she asked for.

“What are we doing tomorrow?” John asks.

“I'd like to go for a drive toward Heraklio and perhaps stop to see the ancient ruins,” Lesley replies immediately.

“That sounds like a good plan,” John responds. “What do you think, Peter?” Harry purses his lips, but before he has time to reply, John says to Lesley, “I don't think he's that keen, Darling. But perhaps Ruth would like to join us?”

“Much as I would enjoy your company,” Ruth smiles, “I've just spent the last three weeks visiting all major Ancient Greek sites with Maria, and as I've only got two days left here, I'd much rather spend them resting on a beach.”

“Three weeks?!” Harry asks incredulously before he can stop himself.

“Yes,” Ruth laughs at his surprise. “I read classics,” she offers as an explanation.

“Oh, well,” Lesley turns to her husband. “It looks like it's just the two of us, Darling. I can see that Peter just wants to take the yacht out, and Ruth, though she would make a fantastic tour guide, probably deserves the rest.” A mischievous glint appears in her eyes then and she adds, “Peter dear, why don't you take Ruth and Maria out on the yacht for the day tomorrow?”

“What a great idea,” John chimes in with a smirk.

Harry smiles wryly at his friends and shakes his head before turning to Ruth and saying, “I would be very happy to take you and Maria out in the yacht if you would like to join me.”

Ruth doesn't miss the looks that the three exchange with each other, but she really would like to go out in a yacht to see the island from the sea and also explore the definite attraction that she feels for Peter. She smiles at him, her dimples flashing, and replies, “I would love to go out on the yacht, but I feel like I'm missing something. You don't have some terrible track record with piloting a boat, do you?”

Harry's lost momentarily in her sparkling blue eyes as she unconsciously turns the full force of her charm on him. The laughter of his companions brings him back to the present, and he hastily clears his throat and answers, “No. In fact, I've been sailing since I was a boy.”

“Really?” she murmurs, and a thoughtful expression crosses her face before she continues, “Well, I'd love to come. I'll ask Maria when I see her, but even if she can't make it, I'll be there.” She smiles at Harry once more and asks, “What time?”

Harry's still trying to recover from the second smile she's given him when Lesley laughs, “Any time after sunrise I should think. Peter wakes up at the crack of dawn everyday. Must be a result of his army training and the lack of a woman to give him a reason to sleep in. John used to be like that, but now you can't get him up before eight.”

“Were you in the army together then?” Ruth asks with interest.

“Yes,” John replies, “we go way back. Knew each other at Uni before joining the army and ending up in the same regiment.”

Lesley gives a huge yawn at that moment, and after apologizing profusely, excuses herself to go to bed. John says he'll go with her and so the party brakes up. Ruth accepts Harry's offer to walk her home and they set off.

It takes them about twenty minutes to reach the rooms Ruth and Maria are renting. They walk in silence, each lost in their thoughts. Ruth's surprised that she's not uncomfortable being alone with this man. She's not usually very trusting of the male half of the species, but with Peter, things seemed to be different. She _is_ comfortable around him, though perhaps comfortable isn't really the right word. Edgy is probably a better one, or exited, or highly aroused. Yes, that's it, highly aroused. But all the same, she's not scared of him. Perhaps it's because she's never met a man before who has such a strong effect on her. She knows that if he grabbed her and pushed her up against the wall somewhere, she's welcome it. She _wants_ him to do just that, so there's really no reason to be scared.

Harry's trying hard to stop himself from grabbing the girl next to him and kissing her senseless up against a wall somewhere. He hasn't felt desire so strong in a very long time. She's certainly beautiful, but he has a feeling that it goes deeper than that. She's smart, funny, and at times, when she looks at him, he thinks he can see his own desire mirrored back at him. But he knows that that's just wishful thinking. What would a young girl in the prime of her life see in an old, scarred, secretive man like him?

“This is it,” Ruth cuts into his reverie.

They stop walking and look at each other for a moment. “Goodnight then,” Harry murmurs, surprised at the sense of loss he feels at their parting.

“Goodnight, Peter,” Ruth answers, “and thank you for your assistance earlier and for walking me to my door.” She smiles her brilliant smile at him and adds, “Until tomorrow then.”

“Yes,” he replies, his mouth suddenly dry. “Tomorrow at the yacht. Come any time you're ready.”

“Right,” she answers.

They stare at each other for a few moments, and then Ruth takes a step towards him, and reaching up, softly kisses his cheek. She feels his warm breath against her cheek and suppresses a shiver before pulling back, turning away, and slipping quickly through the door. Harry stands still for a few seconds, stunned by her kiss. Then he shakes his head, muttering to himself, “Pull yourself together, Pearce,” before turning around and heading back to the boat.


	3. Chapter 3

_Monday, July 16 th, 1981_

_Crete_

 

Ruth sets off for the harbour at around eight in the morning and reaches the yacht in about thirty minutes. Harry's on deck and waves to her as she approaches. Then he gets off the boat and meets her half way along the quay, saying, “Good morning, Ruth. The others are still sleeping so I thought we could have breakfast. Have you eaten yet?”

“Yes, I have,” Ruth replies with a smile, “but that doesn't mean I can't eat more.” Harry smiles back at her and she feels her stomach flip. He looks gorgeous when his smile lights up his face like that.

“Is Maria joining us?” he asks as they turn to walk towards the café.

“No,” Ruth replies. “She met someone yesterday, and they're spending the day together apparently.” Then she adds thoughtfully, thinking out loud, “It sounds like she's serious about him. I hope he doesn't disappoint her.” Harry isn't quite sure what to reply to that, so he remains silent as they walk side by side along the quay.

They reach the café and sit down, ordering some coffee, tiropita and baklava. “How do you know each other?” Harry asks presently.

“We met at Uni and shared a flat for the last two years,” Ruth answers. “I'll miss her now that we have to go our separate ways. She's returning to Greece and hopes to work in a museum in Athens.”

“And you? What do you hope to do?” Harry inquires.

“I already have a job starting in August,” Ruth murmurs, “in the civil service.”

“The civil service? Are you sure that'll be enough for you?” Harry asks with a frown.

“What do you mean?” she questions, intrigued by his perceptive response.

“You're very smart,” Harry replies. “It seems like the civil service might be a little boring for you.”

“I'll see how it goes,” she answers, colouring at his compliment, and then adds, “Do you have any other carriers that you could recommend to a graduate in classics?”

“Well,” he replies thoughtfully, “I've no idea what kind of things you like, other than books that is.”

“Perhaps,” she smiles at him, “by the end of the day, you'll be able to offer a more educated opinion.”

“Yes,” he smiles back. “Perhaps I will.”

 

* * *

 

Ruth is really enjoying herself. They'd set off at half past nine in the end and went west out of Chania, following the coast round to the other side of Crete. She marvels at the beauty of the scenery, the high cliffs giving way to low sandy beaches, the stone walls of the olive groves that create little ledges for the trees to grow on. They'd stopped for a swim in the morning and for a picnic lunch an hour ago.

“I think we should turn back soon,” Harry says. He's been watching her all day and he can't believe his luck in sharing this time with her. He's managed to behave like a perfect gentleman despite the increasingly strong desire he feels for her. He was right; she's not just a beautiful woman. Their conversations have convinced him that she's highly intelligent, caring, thoughtful, kind, determined, perceptive, in short, an incredible woman.

She comes up and stands next to him as he steers the yacht and they look out over the water silently, appreciating the beauty before them. Suddenly, she puts her hand on his arm and exclaims, “Oh, Peter, look!” She points to starboard and he follows her gaze to where three dolphins are swimming alongside the boat. “I've never seen dolphins before,” she murmurs in awe.

The sight of her excited face gives him more pleasure than the sight of the rare mammals in the water, and he finds himself watching her instead of them.

“Do you think we can swim with them?” she asks after a few moments, looking up at him eagerly.

“I'll try slowing down and see what they do,” he offers. He decreases the speed of the vessel, but the dolphins continue on their way, outstripping them easily.

“Oh,” Ruth murmurs, her face a picture of disappointment.

“I'll try to catch them up,” Harry offers immediately.

“No,” Ruth replies, touching his arm once more. “Leave them. It was so lovely to get a glimpse of them.”

“Okay,” he murmurs huskily as he struggles against the temptation to kiss her. Winning the battle for the time being, he clears his throat and adds, “I'd better turn around anyway, or we won't get back before dark.”

 

* * *

 

It's late afternoon and they're speeding along toward Chania. Ruth walks up to Harry and stands just behind him. She watches him for a little while, admiring the well defined muscles of his legs and arms. He has the look of someone who's obtained his strength from work rather than spending hours in the gym, although presumably, he exercises frequently to keep in shape. He's wearing shorts and a t-shirt, both of which show off his figure very nicely. His shoulders are broad and strong, and his buttocks firm. Soon she feels the heat rise inside her as her eyes continue their exploration. She's disappointed that nothing's happened between them yet, for not only does she find him physically alluring, but she's also discovered that he has a good sense of humour, he's interested and well informed on many subjects, he's thoughtful and considerate, and has behaved like a perfect gentleman. He's also reluctant to talk about himself, which is very refreshing. She's always found that the type of men who're attracted to her find her a good listener and talk about themselves non-stop.

Harry becomes aware of her scrutiny and turns to look at her. He smiles and notices the colour rise to her cheeks before she takes a step forwards to stand beside him and turns her head away, looking out to sea. Briefly, he wonders what she was thinking just now, but before he can puzzle it out, she turns toward him and smiles.

“Peter,” she says, “could we stop at the beach where we met? I'd like a swim before we go back.”

“I don't think we have time, Ruth,” he replies reluctantly. “Not if we want to get back before dark.”

“Is it dangerous to drive in the dark?” she asks.

“I can manage to steer safely in the dark when necessary,” he replies.

“Good,” she murmurs, flashing her dimples at him. “Then please, can we stop?”

“Okay,” he agrees against his better judgement, unable to deny her request when she looks at him like that. Truthfully, he would be glad of the opportunity to spend more time with her.

They reach the beach just as the sun's setting behind the rocks, throwing the beach in shadow. Harry drops anchor as near the shore as he can and while he's busy with that, he hears Ruth say, “Come on,” and is just in time to see the splash she makes as she dives off the edge and into the sea. When she surfaces she calls up to him, “Bring a towel, please.”

Harry quickly takes his shirt and shorts off, and grabbing a towel, he lowers himself carefully into the water so as not to get it wet. Slowly he closes the distance between them, swimming with one arm, the other holding the towel up out of the water. Ruth is floating on her back near the beach, but hearing him approach, she lifts her head up to look at him, smiles, and kicks out towards the shore. Harry reaches shallower water just as Ruth stands up and walks onto the beach, which is just as well because he finds himself suddenly unable to breathe as he stares at her, transfixed. She is completely naked.

Without conscious thought, he walks out of the water and stands next to her, unabashedly staring at her beautiful figure. His eyes begin at her small, delicate feet and follow her shapely legs up to her tight, round buttocks. Then they move up to her slim waist, and as she turns toward him, they glide over her firm, perfectly formed, round breasts. He's forgotten to breathe as he continues his journey up her slim neck to her beautiful round face. Her lips are smiling shyly at him as she reaches out and takes the towel from his unresisting hands. She takes a few steps up the sandy beach, and grabbing the corners, she shakes the towel out and spreads it on the ground. Harry's mesmerized as he watches the movements of her graceful body. Ruth walks back to him, and standing before him, she extends her hand and touches his forearm.

“Ruth?” he croaks uncertainly.

She can see him struggling against his desire for her, which is clearly visible in his eyes and the tent that has appeared in his swimming trunks. She was hoping that he would give in faster than this as she's a very shy and private person by nature and is finding this seduction extremely hard to do. She knows she has to take the initiative, however, as Peter has been the perfect gentleman all day.

“Peter,” she murmurs timidly, “I want you. I've had a lovely day, and making love with you here, on the beach, would be the icing on the cake. I've never felt such strong desire before for any man, and if I don't act on it, I'll forever wonder what it would have been like to be with you tonight... Please.” She leans in and kisses his cheek and Harry's self-control snaps.

He reaches for her, pulls her against him, and kisses her deeply and thoroughly. “I've been wanting to do that all day,” he murmurs against her lips, almost an eternity later when they finally come up for air.

She moans as he brings his mouth down on hers again and slides his palms along her back and down to cup her buttocks. Her knees buckle, and he steadies her with his strong arms, bending over and picking her up. He carries her to the towel, and lying her down carefully, he leans over her to kiss her again, but she squeals and he pulls back in alarm.

“Cold,” she murmurs, “You're trunks are cold. Take them off.”

He stands up and obliges before lying back down beside her and caressing her skin with his fingertips. He trails his fingers over her collar bone and lets them slide down to her breast, where he circles around her nipple, teasing her. She moans and arches her back towards his touch.

“You're so beautiful,” he murmurs against her skin before taking one soft peak in his mouth.

“Peter,” she mews contentedly.

He lifts his head then and looks into her stormy, blue eyes, murmuring huskily, “Harry. Please call me Harry. My middle name.” He can't explain why it's important to him that she use his real name, and he doesn't examine his motives too closely now.

“Harry,” she murmurs as she lifts her hand to his face and gently cups his cheek.

“Oh, Ruth,” he sighs, leaning over her and kissing her passionately. He turns the full force of his skill on her then, stroking, kissing, nipping, and licking her lips and breasts. He slides his hand down to her moist heat and runs a finger along her delicate folds, and she moans his name.

“You're so wet,” he murmurs as he brings his mouth down over her clitoris. She tastes sweet and salty from the sea, and he can't get enough of her. He slides one finger inside her and is amazed at how tight she is. Soon her moans of pleasure become higher pitched, and she begins to buck beneath him, so he slows his pace to make her pleasure last, and when she comes, it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

He lies next to her tracing patterns on her stomach and watching her face as she comes back down to earth. She opens her eyes and they're brimming with emotion as she turns them on him. “Harry,” she whispers and pulls his head down to kiss him.

The kiss is slow and tender at first, but then it becomes hot and demanding, and before Harry can react, Ruth has pushed him over until his back is on the ground, half on the towel and half on the cold sand. Her hands slide along his smooth chest, exploring, teasing, exciting. She straddles him and rubs her sex against his erection making him groan into her mouth. He flips her onto her back and hovers over her as she parts her legs and reaches a hand down to stoke his cock.

“Don't,” he begs through clenched teeth as he screws up his eyes and takes deep breaths to pull himself back from the edge.

She waits patiently for him to make the next move, relishing the fact that she can bring him so close to losing control, and when he looks into her eyes, her breath catches as she sees the desire burning in their depths. “You make me so hard, Ruth,” he growls in a deep voice.

She whimpers as desire pools inside her, and she tilts her hips up towards him, making him groan with want as he reaches down to her opening and slides a finger inside her. She's wet and hot and moans with pleasure, and he can't hold back any more. Pulling out of her, he uses the tip of his erection to tease her sex, coating himself in her juices.

“Please,” she begs, pushing herself against him, so he presses against her opening and slides his head in slowly before pulling out again, not wanting to hurt her by stretching her too fast. Then he slides in again, a little deeper this time and she's so tight around him that he has to exercise his self-control to its limits.

Then suddenly, he stops moving as realization dawns, and his eyes snap to hers. “Is this your first time?” he whispers.

“Yes,” she murmurs.

“Oh, God, Ruth!” he says in a strangled voice as he pulls out of her. “I can't do this.”

“What?” Ruth replies in a hurt voice. “Why not?” He sits down on the towel with his back towards her and shakes his head. “Damn it, Peter,” she says, her eyes flashing with anger as she sits up. “This is _so_ unfair. I deserve an explanation for this.”

He flinches when she calls him Peter, deliberately, he's sure, and realises that she's right; he needs to explain. “I am an old, broken soldier, Ruth,” he murmurs, “and you're a beautiful, intelligent, young woman with her whole life ahead of her. You should be with someone like yourself, not someone like me.”

She can't believe her ears! “And what about who _I_ want to be with?” Ruth demands, her chest heaving with anger, “What about that? Don't I get a say in it? Do you know what men my age are _like_? Do you remember what you were like at twenty-one, or twenty-five even?” She makes an angry, exasperated sound and stands up, walking away from him along the beach. She's only taken a few steps before she thinks better of it, however, and taking several deep breaths to calm herself, she turns back and kneels beside him on the towel once more. “Please look at me, Harry,” she says in a calmer, gentler voice and waits for him to respond. Her patience is rewarded a few moments later when he eventually turns around, and she can see that his eyes are troubled as he looks at her, making what remains of her anger dissolve.

“Most men my age are fumbling, bumbling fools with a one-tracked mind, who wouldn't know how to please a woman even if they had a seminar on it. There's a reason why I'm still a virgin, and it's not because I'm saving myself for marriage. I've been waiting for someone who turns me on just by looking at me, someone who's touch makes me burn, someone who wants to give me pleasure and makes sure I'm completely satisfied before taking pleasure for himself. I've been waiting for _you_ , Harry.” She reaches out and touches his shoulder lightly before adding, “So if you still want me, please show me what I've been waiting for.”

With a groan, Harry capitulates and pulls her into his arms. He licks, kisses, and nips until she's begging him for release. Then he enters her slowly with so much care that she doesn't even feel her barrier giving way. It doesn't take long for him to push her over the edge, and as she tumbles over and shatters into a million pieces calling out his name, she pulls him with her, her contractions breaking the last threads of his self-control, and he falls, burring his face in her hair. “Ruth,” he moans and collapses on top of her.

 

* * *

 

“Stay with me here tonight,” Harry murmurs in her ear. “John and Lesley won't be back until tomorrow.”

They're standing together at the helm as they move toward Chania in the darkness, moving slowly, partly because it's night time and partly because neither of them is ready yet to part.

“Yes,” she smiles at him, and stepping closer, she wraps her arms round him and buries her face in his chest.

He holds her close with one arm, and they stay like this, enjoying the warmth and closeness between them until they reach Chania. She lets go of him then and watches with interest and admiration as he expertly steers the vessel and ties it up.

“Would you like to go out to eat?” Harry asks.

“No,” she replies with a smile. “Is there any food here?”

“Yes,” he says. “There are still some things in the fridge.”

Ruth nods and slips past him, going down below. There are three cabins down here, two with a double bed and one with a single bunk. There's also a large seating area, a decently sized galley and a lavatory and shower. Ruth opens the fridge door and pulls out all the contents, which aren't many. Harry follows her down, and together, they get some salad, an omelet, and toast ready. Then they eat in companionable silence with their eyes locked together, neither of them realising the significance of this action in their budding romance.

When Ruth swallows her last mouthful, she reaches behind her to open the fridge. Then she turns around with a tub of whipped cream in her hand, and smiling, she says, “I'm ready for dessert now.”

Harry chuckles, gets up, and pulling her toward him, he murmurs, “My turn first,” before taking the tub from her hand and leading her to his cabin.

 


	4. Chapter 4

_Wednesday, July 18 th, 1981_

_BA flight from Athens to London Heathrow_

 

Silent tears roll down her cheeks as she sits on the plane looking out the window. She's on her way back home from the most wonderful holiday ever. Saying goodbye to Maria had been emotional, and she hopes that they'll see each other again soon, but she knows that they'll stay in touch. However, that's not why she's crying now. She's crying over the loss of Harry, the man who made her feel things she'd never even imagined possible. She's in love with him, she now realises, but it's too late to do anything about it. They haven't exchanged contact details and she doesn't even know his last name. She'd been thinking of giving him her phone number when John and Leslie had turned up, and the thought had flown out of her mind until it was too late. By the time she'd returned to the harbour to say goodbye one last time, the yacht was no longer there, and she'd had to leave for Athens to catch her flight back home without even one last glimpse of him.

Ruth wipes away her tears determinedly and tells herself to stop feeling sorry for herself. She had an amazing few days with a wonderful man, and that is more than most people can say. She has the memories, and now she needs to pull herself together and start planning what she needs to do in the next ten days before she starts work.

 

 

_Tuesday, August 21 st, 1981_

_140 Gower Street_

 

Harry rubs his eyes and sighs. Gingerly he lifts his hand to his forehead and touches the newest cut he's sustained in the line of duty, wincing slightly from the pain.

“Go home and get some rest, Harry,” Jason MacLeish says as he walks past Harry's station.

“I'll just finish this report,” he murmurs.

He doesn't want to go home. Home is an empty house containing the bare necessities. It's a place where he has a drink or two before bed and snatches some sleep between missions. It's a place where he's plagued by dreams and daydreams of Ruth, a woman who has come to mean everything to him though he's known her for less than two days. He'd come so close to telling her the truth about who he is and what he does, and then John and Lesley had turned up and ruined the moment. Perhaps it's for the best, he muses. It would certainly have been a breach of protocol, but he still wishes that he had some way of contacting her.

He'd looked for her when he'd first got back, but there are a surprising number of graduates in classics to go through, and after some time, he'd stopped looking, afraid that he would find her happy with someone else and cause himself more heartache. As things are, he can still remember and dream without the pain of rejection making things intolerable. Pushing these thoughts aside, he struggles to focus his attention back on the report he's trying to write. He'll think of her later, at home.

 

* * *

 

Ruth sighs as she sits on her sofa in front of the TV. There's nothing worth watching tonight so she turns it off. GCHQ isn't as exciting as she'd thought it would be. She longs for something challenging and interesting, where she could make a real difference. She'd gone out on a date yesterday, with someone her new friend Kate knows. He was a nice enough bloke, but she hadn't felt anything for him, not even a small spark, not even a fraction of what she'd felt for Harry... Harry.

She sighs, and getting up, heads upstairs to run a bath. As she slips into the water, she sighs in pleasure and leans back, indulging herself by letting the memories come unchecked. She uses her fingers to stimulate herself and imagines him here with her, licking the whipped cream off her nipples and smearing it all over her sex before licking and sucking it off with his talented mouth. It's never as good as the real thing, but it's all she's got, and as her release comes, she whispers his name, “Harry.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

_Friday, August 10 th, 1984_

_140 Gower Street_

 

“Harry,” Jason says walking up to his desk, “I need to go out and meet an asset rather urgently, but I have these blasted interviews to complete for the analyst Reynolds wants. Would you do the last three for me?”

“Sure,” Harry replies and spins his chair round to face him. “Anything to get out of these bloody reports.”

“Great. I owe you one,” Jason smiles. “So far they've been hopeless cases. Here are the folders. Janet Emerson looks good on paper, but I've already seen my top two candidates, and they've both failed the test I gave them. Anyway, the first one's in thirty minutes.”

“Right,” Harry replies and glances down at Emerson's file.

With a nod and a smile, Jason turns and leaves thought the pods. Harry opens the first file and begins reading. Jason's right; Emerson seems to have quite a bit of experience and can speak quite a few languages too. The second candidate's, Victor Smithe's, file doesn't look very impressive, but he tries not to let that prejudice him. He knows that, when it comes to human beings, nothing is usually as it seems on paper. He skims thought the first two candidates, but when he opens the third folder his heart all but stops and he gasps in shock. Ruth is staring back at him from the picture at the top left hand corner of the page. He glances quickly at her name, Ruth Evershed and then devours the rest of her file, thirsty for information on her. He's relieved to see that she's single, though he knows perfectly well that she might be dating someone unofficially. Her file is impressive for her age, and he feels pride in her achievements, though secretly he knows that they don't really do her justice. In real life, she's much more than she appears to be on paper, and he takes pleasure in knowing that, at least in MI-5, he's the only one who knows this.

When he's finished reading, he closes the folders, and putting them on his desk, he gets up and wonders over to the water cooler, deep in thought. He gets a drink and returns to his desk where he sits down and puts his head in his hands. All this time she's been at GCHQ. He'd looked everywhere for her, but had only her first name and year of graduation in classics to go on. And now, in a little while, he'll be facing her again in an interview, where everything will be recorded. It isn't fair on either of them, but it's especially unfair on her. He, at least, has been forewarned. So making a quick decision, he gets up and goes to the technical suite to find Malcolm.

“Malcolm,” he says without preamble, “I need a favour.”

“Sure,” his friend replies and turns to face him, his blue eyes meeting Harry's hazel ones with interest.

“Roof in ten minutes,” Harry murmurs and leaves the room.

Malcolm watches him go, intrigued by what might be the reason he needs help. From previous experience, he knows that it will be something interesting, so he doesn't hesitate to follow him a few minutes later. Life is never dull when Harry's around.

 

_* * *_

 

Harry's waiting on the roof and turns as soon as he hears Malcolm walk up behind him.

“So,” Malcolm asks, “what can I do for you?”

“I need to compete the interviews of the rest of the candidates for the new analyst's position,” Harry explains, “and I know one of the women. We had a... brief encounter a few years ago. I used an alias and haven't seen her since. I don't want her to walk into that room unprepared to see me. It doesn't seem fair to jeopardize her chance at a job she clearly wants because of some long forgotten affair.”

Malcolm nods in agreement, hiding his surprise at the request. It's been almost ten years since he'd joined section D, and he's got to know Harry better than most. They complement each other's working styles, and they each admire the other for their very different and unique strengths that they bring to the team. Plus they are about the same age, older and more experienced than the younger team members. Of course, it's never really possible to know a spook well, especially one like Harry, who's very good at hiding his true thoughts and feelings behind a mask of confidence and indifference. The only emotion that Harry ever displays on the Grid is anger. Never the less, he's never known Harry to care about the women he has “brief encounters” with before. Of course, this particular situation has never arisen in the past, at least not as far as he knows. “I could get a message to her so that she knows it will be you,” he offers.

“Thanks,” Harry smiles. “I was hoping you'd say that. Her name's Ruth Evershed. I used the alias Peter Harmon, but I don't believe that we exchanged last names. We met on Crete and spent time on a yacht. That should be enough information.”

“I'll do it now,” Malcolm replies.

“Thanks, Malcolm,” Harry says clapping him on the shoulder. “I owe you one.”

 

* * *

 

“Hello?” Ruth answers her phone. “Ruth speaking.”

“Hello,” Malcolm replies. “Miss Evershed, my name is Malcolm and I work for the Security Services.”

“Oh!” Ruth exclaims. “Right.”

Malcolm has made sure there are no tabs on Ruth's phone, and he is calling from a clean phone himself. “I'm calling on behalf of a man you met a few years ago on Crete. His name's Peter Harmon and you apparently spent some time together aboard a yacht.”

Ruth's breath catches in her throat and her face pales.

“Do you know that man I mean?” he asks.

“Yes,” she whispers.

“He will be conducting your interview today,” Malcolm continues, “and he wished you to be informed of this circumstance so that you're not caught off guard, especially since all interviews for the position are recorded.”

“I understand. Thank you,” Ruth murmurs into the phone and absently hangs up, forgetting to say goodbye.

He's a spy. Harry's a spy. That's why he was so secretive, not revealing much at all about himself. For a moment, her heart sinks as she registers that she's probably one of many women to fall victim to his charm, but then she remembers the way he pulled away when he realised that it was her first time. That's why he didn't think he was worthy of her, the lady and the tramp, or spy in this case. Ruth spends several minutes in deep contemplation of the events on Crete and how this new information relates to them. In the end, she concludes that what she meant to him will be revealed by his real name as she's sure he must have used an alias. So she takes a few deep breaths and goes off to make herself a cup of sweet tea to steady her nerves as she prepares herself for the interview and seeing _him_ again.

 

* * *

 

Ruth sits behind a desk fiddling nervously with the strap of her hand bag. She's waiting in the interview room at MI-5's headquarters, a sense of nervous anticipation and excitement causing butterflies in their thousands to take up residence in her stomach. She'll be seeing Harry again soon, and she can't make up her mind if she's looking forward to it or dreading it more.

Harry approaches the door to the room apprehensively. Ruth's behind this door and his heart beats faster as he comes nearer to seeing her again. He stops outside the door for a moment, taking a deep breath and schooling his face into a neutral expression before he turns the handle and walks in. She looks even more beautiful than the last time he saw her, and he drinks her in with his eyes as his heart floods with joy, watching her as she rises from her seat and regards him with a nervous expression that could easily be attributed to nerves about the interview. It's only the wariness in her eyes that betrays her true source of unease.

“Miss Evershed,” Harry says and extends his hand toward her, “I'm Harry Pearce. I'll be conducting your interview today.”

“Mr. Pearce,” Ruth acknowledges and takes his hand in hers briefly.

“Harry, please,” he responds, releasing her hand.

She glances quickly away towards the table in an effort to hide the reaction that his voice and touch provoke inside her as she feels hot desire pool in her abdomen. She meant something to him, she realises with pleasure. He gave her his real name in the height of their passion.

“Please take a seat,” Harry continues. His voice is calm and doesn't betray his feelings despite the fact that he can barely contain his joy as he realises that their touch sparked something between them again. He read it in her eyes the moment before she turned them away, causing hope to flutter in his chest.

He takes a seat opposite Ruth and begins, “Why do you wish to join us here at MI-5, Miss Evershed?”

She smiles at him and replies, “I'm looking for a new challenge and I would like to apply my skills somewhere where I'll be able to make a difference. My work at GCHQ is not as challenging as I would like... Harry.” She sees something flicker in his eyes when she uses his name, but his expression remains unaltered, making her look at him with new respect as she realises that he must be very good at his job.

“Miss Evershed-” Harry begins but she interrupts him.

“Ruth, please,” she murmurs.

Harry nods his ascent and begins again, “Why should we give you this job? What qualities do you possess that make you believe you would be the best candidate for it... Ruth?”

She blinks at the sound of her name coming from his lips and quickly closes the door on the images that come flooding into her mind, forcing herself to focus on answering the question. “I can speak nine languages fluently and can get by in several others. I have a talent for seeing things from a new perspective and I work hard. I'm single, without a family, and I'm prepared to work late when necessary. I can get information from a variety of sources quickly and discretely, and I can analyse the results efficiently and speedily to find the common thread. I love challenges and will not rest until I have solved the puzzle,” she explains with confidence.

“Thank you, Ruth,” Harry replies. “I'll be presenting you with some information now that I'd like you to read and analyse. Please give me your assessment of the threat and what, in your opinion, should be our next move in this case.”

Ruth nods to show she understands and takes the papers he slides over the table to her. Harry leans back in his chair and watches as she skims through each document quickly, a frown lodging itself between her eyebrows and making his hands itch to reach out and smooth it away. He links his fingers together to stop himself from acting on his desire, but this internal conflict doesn't present itself in any other away. To an outside observer, it looks as though this is the first meeting of the two individuals in the interview room.

About five minutes later, Ruth looks up, and a small smile plays on her lips. “I believe the next move on our part should be not to act on this intelligence, but to put our resources into finding out who's responsible for this information,” Ruth says. “This information has been designed to mislead MI-5 into investigating a threat that's not really there.”

“And why do you say that?” Harry asks in an impassive tone of voice, although inside he feels like jumping up and punching the air in victory. Ruth's the only analyst that's been interviewed who's figured it out. Therefore, she'll be offered the position and he'll get to work with her and see her every day.

“Although cleverly disguised, all these documents were written by the same writer as can be seen from the turn of phrase in several places,” Ruth replies without hesitation. She's worried that she's made a mistake, and that these documents were really written by the same person for the purpose of this exercise. But if this were a real situation, she knows that this is the conclusion she would have reached, and she dearly hopes that her reasoning will be understood by the people making the decision, and she'll be offered this job.

Harry nods and says, “Thank you, Ruth. My superiors will be reviewing all the interviews, and you will be contacted in the next few days.”

Harry rises from his seat and Ruth does the same as he lifts an arm towards the door in invitation. They walk round the table and meet in front of the door, which Harry holds open for her before turning to face her. “Goodbye, Ruth,” Harry says and extends his hand towards her.

“Thank you, Harry,” Ruth smiles and takes his hand in hers. “Au revoir,” she murmurs.

They looks into each other's eyes for a moment longer than necessary until Harry breaks eye contact first, secure in the knowledge that he'll see her again soon. He glances down at their joined hands for a split second, and then releasing her, he turns and walks out of the room and away down the corridor. Ruth follows him and watches him go for a moment before turning and walking in the opposite direction towards the exit, her heart hammering loudly in her chest. She knows that the attraction between them is still there, but she cannot be sure that it's not a purely physical one on his side, or that he isn't in a relationship with someone else. Suddenly she becomes painfully aware of how little she really knows about Harry Pearce, and as she walks out into the sunshine once more, she resolves to remedy that and get into whatever database is necessary to find out more. After all, she reasons, he must have read her file and know everything about her by now.


	6. Chapter 6

_Friday, August 17 th , 1984_

_140 Gower Street_

 

“Ruth?” Jason says, extending his hand in greeting. “I'm Jason MacLeish, Section D Field Officer.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Ruth smiles and shakes his hand.

Jason is a tall, broad shouldered man with blonde, curly hair, sparkling green eyes, and a ready smile.

“Follow me,” Jason says as he turns, and walking through security, he makes his way down the hall to the lifts. “Section D's on the third floor.”

Jason is very open and Ruth soon finds herself relax as he jokes about the state of the service and this building while they make their way upstairs. “I hope to God they move us some place else soon, or the whole thing's liable to come down on top of us one of these days,” he says with dramatic flare, making Ruth laugh in spite of herself.

They reach their destination and he demonstrates how to use the pods. Once on the Grid, he turns to one of his colleagues, a petite brunet, and says, “Ruth, this is Sarah.”

“Hello,” Ruth murmurs.

“Hi,” Sarah smiles, “Sarah Matthews.” She shakes Ruth's hand, and then turning to Jason, she adds, “Harry wanted to see you.”

“Right,” Jason replies. “I'm sorry, Ruth, but I need to talk to Harry for a moment. Sarah will show you where your station is.”

He heads off toward the briefing room with an apologetic grin, and Ruth follows Sarah through the rows of desks. The room they're in has a long rectangular shape with windows along one side. They stop in front of one of the desks in the far corner of the room, and Ruth is happy to see that it's by the window. After depositing her coat and bag near it, Ruth follows Sarah once more and is shown where the loos are and the kitchen.

“What's though there?” Ruth asks pointing to a corridor on their right.

“That's the technical suite,” Sarah replies and turns to lead her there.

They enter the room and a man with a pleasant face, short, light brown hair, and light blue eyes glances up at them.

“Ruth,” Sarah says, “this is Malcolm, our chief analyst and technician.”

“Hi,” Ruth smiles warmly.

“Hello,” Malcolm says and gives her a lopsided smile. “It's a pleasure.”

Before Ruth can reply, a young man with sparkling blue eyes and dark hair pops his head round the corner and says with a grin, “Sarah, I need you.” Then spotting Ruth, he enters the room, saying, “You must be Ruth. I'm Lucas North. Welcome to the team.”

“Thanks,” Ruth replies and takes the hand he offers her.

He's a tall, lean man with a deep, baritone voice, a dashing smile, and bright, inquisitive eyes. Ruth's surprised to find that both Lucas and Jason are very good looking. She's always assumed that spies needed to be plainer in order to blend in, like Malcolm or Harry. Despite the fact that she finds Harry extremely attractive with his expressive, hazel eyes and soft, kissable lips, she wouldn't go as far as to call him dashing. She could easily apply that term to her two younger colleagues, however. She notices that Lucas is looking at her with admiration, but before she has time to blush, Sarah calls out from the doorway, “Lucas, are you coming?” and he turns to leave, giving her a bright, apologetic smile.

At the door, he turns back and says, “I almost forgot. Briefing room in ten minutes,” before disappearing down the corridor.

“So,” Malcolm remarks after a beat, “you got the position. Congratulations.”

“Thank you, Malcolm,” Ruth smiles, “and thanks for the phone call. It really helped.”

Malcolm shrugs and says, “Harry's an old friend.”

Ruth nods and they remain silent for a few moments. She wonders how much Malcolm knows about what happened between her and Harry. She debates with herself if she should bring it up and out into the open, or if she should just ignore it. She's somewhat embarrassed by what Harry might have shared about their time together. Is he the kind of man to brag? It doesn't really fit with what she knows about him, especially since he made the effort to warn her about his presence at the interview. On the other hand, he might have shared some details with Malcolm since they are obviously friends. Is it better to just ask him even though it might be quite awkward?

As she puzzles this through, Malcolm's thoughts are running along slightly different lines. He finds that he likes Ruth already and can see why Harry was attracted to her. She has a demure, unconventional kind of beauty, especially when she smiles, making her eyes sparkle and dimples appear in her cheeks. To begin with, when he'd had a look at her file, he'd been surprised to find that Ruth is so young. Then he'd assumed that she'd been on the type of holiday frequently taken by students to warm beaches in foreign countries, where they look for good company and lots of alcohol and sex. Now, having met Ruth, he can't imagine her going in for that kind of thing, and it makes him wonder what exactly happened between her and Harry. How on earth did Harry manage to have a “brief encounter” with a beautiful, smart woman at least fifteen years his junior? That man has the luck of the devil _and_ a golden tongue, he decides and finds himself on the whole to be quite envious.

“What did Harry tell you exactly?” Ruth says finally as her curiosity gets the better of her.

Malcolm looks at the floor uncomfortably and clears his throat before murmuring, “He said that he didn't want you to come to the interview unprepared to meet him. He was worried that it would throw you off and might affect your performance. I believe his exact words were that it didn't seem fair to jeopardize your chance at a job you clearly wanted because of some long forgotten affair.”

Long forgotten affair. So he _has_ moved on then, she thinks sadly before another thought occurs to her - perhaps that's just what he wants Malcolm to think. After reading Harry's file, she hasn't managed to find out anything of importance about him. Of course she now knows the facts about his life; like his age and the fact that he's divorced with two children, or that his career in the army, MI-6, and MI-5 is pretty impressive. But that's not really what interests her. What she _really_ wants to know is what kind of person he is because, no matter how much she's in love with him right now, she won't put herself through the pain of being with him if he's not worthy of her trust and love. She hopes that the man she got to know on Crete is the real Harry Pearce, but she can't be sure yet. After all, spies are very good actors, and judging from Harry's career, he's one of the best.

Malcolm breaks into her train of thought by murmuring, almost as if thinking out loud, “I was quite surprised at the request to be honest. I've never known him to worry about such a thing before. I would have expected him to say that, if you can't deal with that kind of a curved ball, you shouldn't be in MI-5. But perhaps his thinking was different because you're a desk spook, not a field officer.”

“Yes, perhaps,” Ruth nods then asks, “Does this sort of thing happen often then?”

“I don't think it's ever happened before,” Malcolm murmurs thoughtfully and then exclaims, “Oh crumbs! Briefing Room,” and he grabs his notebook from his table and dashes out the door with Ruth at his heels.

Everyone is already seated around the table when they enter. Jason is speaking and looks up when the door opens. “Ah, Ruth,” he says and smiles warmly at her. “We're just about to begin. Have you met everyone? Everyone this is Ruth Evershed, our new analyst.”

Jason goes round the table and names everyone, starting with Jack Reynolds, the Head of Section D, who gets up and shakes her hand, welcoming her to the team. Ruth finds that she's already been introduced to all except Sophie Miles, who is a young field officer. The last person she's introduced to is Harry. He winks at her, and she smiles and takes the only vacant seat at the table, which happens to be beside him.

 

* * *

 

“Coming to the George, Harry?” Jason asks casually as the day nears its end.

“Sure,” Harry replies without looking up from his paperwork.

“Ruth? Are you coming?” Jason asks from across a couple of desks.

“Sorry. What?” Ruth replies as she raises her head above her computer monitor.

“Are you coming for drinks at the George?” Jason repeats.

“I don't think so,” Ruth answers. “I have loads of things to do here.”

“Oh, come on, Ruth,” Jason persists. “It's your first day. We'll celebrate.”

Ruth studies him for a moment. He's in his early thirties and good looking with his blond curls and green eyes, and he knows it. He gives her a puppy dog look that she's sure he knows not may women can resist. She smiles as she realises that she's not one of them. “Okay,” she replies and watches the triumphant smile spread across his lips.

She shakes her head in amusement and returns to her reports, unaware of Harry watching the exchange. He sighs inwardly as he sees her fall victim to Jason's persuasive powers. He envies the younger man even as he knows that he himself has often succumb to Jason's easy charm. He used to be like that, he realises. At university he was considered to be quite the heart-breaker, and he never had to try very hard to get women in his bed. Now he doesn't even want to try. There's only one woman he's interested in, and he's not sure how to get close to her again. He lied to her about who he is and knows that only time will help him in his task of getting her to trust him. He just hopes that, in the mean time, Jason or Lucas don't manage to seduce her first. He's seen the admiration in the way they look at her. Jealousy flares up in his chest and he has to fight hard to suppress it.


	7. Chapter 7

_Friday, August 17 th , 1984_

_The George_

 

“Let me buy you a drink,” Jason says with a smile.

“Thanks,” Ruth replies. “A cider please.”

She wonders over to the table where she spies her colleagues and sits down by Malcolm. They all seem to be here except for Sophie and Harry, who were still doing some last minute preparations for the op they're running tomorrow when Ruth left the Grid.

“Have you found a place to stay yet?” Malcolm asks.

“No,” Ruth admits. “I've looked at a couple of places, but they were terrible. I've discovered that it's hard to find something I can afford in a reasonable location and condition.”

“You could stay in my guest room,” Harry offers as he sits down beside her.

Malcolm and Ruth both stare at him in suprise.

“Until you find your own place,” he adds defensively, while inwardly berating himself for his stupidity in suggesting such a thing. It was all a result of seeing Jason buying Ruth a drink and the warm smile she gave him. He's never been able to think straight when his mind is clouded by jealousy. Anger and hurt he can handle, but jealousy is his Achilles's heel.

Ruth clears her throat and murmurs, “Thank you, Harry. I'll... I'll think about it.”

Realising he's not off to a particularly good start, Harry excuses himself to get a drink, and Ruth follows him with her eyes as he goes. She's not sure what to make of his offer. Perhaps he was just trying to help her out of a difficult spot, but given their history, it was an odd offer to make. Jason walks up carrying his drink and Ruth's, and he sits down next to her in the seat Harry has just vacated, forcing her to set her thoughts aside for later analysis.

Malcolm's stunned by Harry's invitation and it dawns on him that his friend is very far from indifferent to their new analyst. He watches him carefully and sees the tell-tale signs of the jealousy he must be feeling as he watches Ruth chatting with Jason. His jaw and hands are tightly clenched, a sure sign of anger. Perhaps the great Harry Pearce has finally fallen in love, he thinks and smiles. It would do him good. He turns his attention towards Ruth in the hope of finding out if the attraction is mutual, but he can't see any indication of it. Of course he doesn't know her well yet, so he will have to watch carefully to see what he can find out. He smiles. Life just got a whole lot more interesting on the Grid.

 

* * *

 

Ruth is on her second drink and is really enjoying herself. She's sitting between Sophie and Sarah this time. They're both very friendly, and Ruth is pleased; she hadn't been that lucky with her colleagues at GCHQ. Luckily, the men have gone off to play pool upstairs as she'd been feeling a little uncomfortable earlier with the attentions of Jason. She's not quite sure whether he's just being attentive to the new member of the team, or if it's a more personal interest, so when a suitable lull in the conversation presents itself, she asks her new friends, “Does Jason behave like this with all new members of the team?”

“You mean does he buy them drinks and try to get them to go watch him play pool to cheer him on?” Sarah teases.

“Exactly,” Ruth sighs. “I don't want to tell him I'm not interested if he's just trying to make friends with the new girl.”

“To be honest,” Sophie giggles, “I think it's his way of making friends with the new girl _and_ seeing if there's anything else he can get out of it.”

“I must say, we have quite a group of men in Section D,” Sarah sighs. “All of them, except Malcolm of course, are quite the heart-breakers.”

“Really?” Ruth asks with interest.

“Oh, yes,” Sophie nods. “Particularly Jason and Harry. Jason's always talking about some new girl he's dating, and well, Harry's affairs are legendary.”

“Legendary?” Ruth inquires with surprise.

“They say that he used to have one affair after another,” Sarah murmurs conspiratorially, “and it destroyed his marriage.”

“How sad,” Ruth replies thoughtfully, hiding her distress at this news about Harry. Had she been just a short affair? Is that what he still wants from her? Because she's sure that he still wants her.

“Lucas, is an interesting one,” Sophie says. “He's only been here six months, but he's gorgeous, so he must be beating them off with a stick.”

“Seems to me like he's more interested in the job at the moment,” Sarah adds. “You give him some time, and we'll see what he does when the novelty wares off.”

“So you're saying, don't trust Jason,” Ruth asks, turning the conversation back to her initial question.

“Oh, no,” Sophie replies. “We're saying be careful because it might not last. I don't think he dates more than one woman at a time. It's more that he gets bored.”

Ruth nods and says, “I can see that in him. He's too in love with himself.”

“Wow! That's it. How perfectly put,” Sarah exclaims.

“Well, she _is_ an analyst,” Sophie replies rolling her eyes, and then asks, “Do you have a boyfriend, Ruth?”

Ruth hesitates for a moment and then answers, “No.”

“Come on,” Sarah encourages. “You can tell us. We won't tell.”

“Sort of,” Ruth admits, realising that she hesitated too long and they don't believe her. “We're not together, but I hope we will be soon.”

“Shame,” Sarah sighs. “It's hard to find someone outside the service who can deal with the crazy hours we keep. So what's his name?”

“James,” she invents and then she hastily asks, “So are either of you seeing anyone?”

“I'm not,” Sarah offers, “but I can't say I haven't had a few one-night-stands in the last year.”

“I was seeing someone,” Sophie adds, “but we broke up last month when I was finally allowed to tell him what I do for a living. He couldn't handle it. Said he couldn't trust me.”

“That's awful!” Ruth exclaims.

Sophie shrugs and says, “It makes you wonder if it's worth making the effort to get them vetted in the first place. Perhaps, one-night-stands are better in the long run anyway, or dating someone using an alias.”

Ruth is surprised at the openness of her companions with regards to their private lives. She's never been comfortable sharing her thoughts and feelings with people, especially if she's only just met them. She also can't understand all this sleeping around that seemed to be going on. Since her time with Harry, she's been on a handful of dates, but only one of them had resulted in sex that, unfortunately, hadn't even been particularly good. At least, it hadn't been any good when compared to sex with Harry. Perhaps she's less easily aroused than other women, she thinks. Perhaps what she found with Harry some women find with every second man, or maybe, her expectations are just too high. She's always had high expectation and standards in every area of her life. She sometimes finds herself wondering if it's the sand, the sea, and the sunset that made all the difference between great sex and good sex. Perhaps she's just chasing a dream. But then she hasn't even been able to find _good_ sex since then. Of course, she admits grudgingly to herself, it's pretty hard to find it if you're not really looking for it because you have this one man lodged in your mind and heart. But the bottom line is that it's not just about the sex. She's in love with Harry because he made her laugh, he talked to her about interesting things, and she'd felt a real connection to him. In short, he'd given her a glimpse of Eden, but now, she's not sure if it was the real thing, or a carefully constructed illusion.

“Let's go and see what the boys are up to,” Sarah suggests, rescuing Ruth from her depressing thoughts.

They all readily agree and follow her upstairs where there's a game in progress between Malcolm and Lucas on one side, and Jason and Harry on the other. Lucas and Malcolm win the game as Lucas is by far the best player.

“Do you girls want to join us?” Jason asks when the game's over.

Sarah and Sophie immediately agree, and Ruth doesn’t object. Harry decides to sit this one out to even up the teams, and so the rest of them inevitably form two teams: boys versus girls. Jason starts off the game, followed by Sophie, Malcolm, Sarah and Lucas. Lucas very nearly clears the table, but he misses his last shot. Ruth picks up the cue and chalks it up while she wonders round the table looking for her shot.

“Number five in the side pocket,” Jason helps her out.

Ruth smiles at him briefly and glances at Malcolm and Harry who are standing together. She winks at them and Harry can't stop the small smile that appears on his lips.

“Nice try, Jason,” she murmurs, and selecting her shot, proceeds to clear the table and win the game.

The girls whoop in delight and hug her tight while they crow over the men.

“Where did you learn to play like that?” Lucas asks in awe.

“University,” Ruth replies. “I never liked drinking, and so the only fun thing to do when we went out was play pool. I practically financed my accommodation on pool winnings.”

“You and I would make an unstoppable team,” Lucas smiles at her.

“But that would hardly be fair,” Jason complains, stepping closer to Ruth. “Ruth should play with me; then the teams will be even.”

Ruth looks from one man to the other and almost bursts out laughing at the glares they exchange, despite the embarrassment she feels at being the object over which they're fighting. Bloody testosterone. This sort of thing has never been a problem for her before. At university, good looking men fought over the popular girls, not the bookworms. Here it seems that intellect is actually appreciated, which is quite refreshing. She makes up her mind to feel flattered instead of embarrassed, and deciding to have some fun, she adds fuel to the fire by saying with a grin, “How about you arm wrestle each other for me?”

Sarah squeals in delight and Sophie giggles.

“Good idea,” Jason declares and sits down at a nearby table.

Never one to back down from a challenge, Lucas sits down opposite him, saying, “All right.”

Ruth risks a glance at Malcolm and Harry. The former has a broad grin on his face and his eyes are sparkling in delight as he realises that he was right; things are getting really interesting on the Grid. Harry's expression is tightly controlled, but she has no doubt that he's not happy. She feels a twinge of guilt for which she tells herself off. It's just a bit of fun, she tells herself, and he doesn't have any claim on her. However, the guilt proves hard to shake off as it goes against her nature to knowingly hurt anyone, even if hurting Harry isn't what she'd set out to do.

“Ruth,” Lucas says, “you're the starter.”

“Okay,” she replies and turns toward them. “On your marks...Get set...GO!”

Both men strain as the group around them cheers them on. They keep going for quite a long time, and Ruth is impressed. After about a minute, Lucas wins the fight out of sheer determination despite the fact that Jason looks stronger. He raises his arms up in victory, and Jason is the first to congratulate him, followed by everyone else.

“How about a kiss for the winner?” he asks Ruth cheekily.

Ruth raises her eyebrows at him in surprise and then blushes, but shows no obvious signs of rejecting the proposal. He leans down toward her slowly, giving her time to back out of it if she wants to, but as she watches his bright, blue eyes approach her face, she finds that she doesn't. Perhaps it's those two drinks she's had tonight, or maybe it's just the attention she's receiving from two handsome men that has gone to her head, but she finds herself feeling free and reckless. Lucas presses his lips to hers gently and then pulls away smiling, while Sarah and Sophie cheer and Ruth smiles shyly.

“Now, for the game,” says Jason. “Harry, you're on my team. Let's show them how it's done.” They all look at Harry, and for a moment, Ruth thinks he will refuse. He nods, however, and picks up a cue.

The game is quick with Ruth and Lucas winning easily. Lucas gives her a hug and another kiss before she can say anything, but she finds she doesn't mind. His kisses are gentle and undemanding.

“Now, how about a kiss for the losers,” Jason smiles cheekily.

Ruth laughs and walks round the table to him. He leans forward and kisses her firmly on the lips, cupping her face with his hands. When he releases her, he eyes her critically, but she doesn't appear to have been affected in any way by his kiss which disappoints him somewhat.

“What about Harry?” Sophie giggles, thoroughly enjoying this game.

Ruth turns toward him slowly, realising full well that neither of them can avoid this now without either causing the team to insist further, or giving themselves away. Her eyes find his and suddenly all sound is sucked from the room, and for a moment, she's transporter back in time to a secluded beach on a Greek island. She finds herself drifting toward him as if pulled by a strong magnetic force, and she realises that she must be walking forward thought she's not aware of it. She stands before him, and his hands come to rest on her elbows, his fingers wrapping around them gently but firmly. He leans his head forward until their lips touch briefly, gently, reverently, and then he pulls back. The sound seems to return with a bang, and she becomes aware of the cheers of the others. She blinks and takes a step back.

Harry's arms fall to his sides, but there is a small smile on his lips that was not there before. He knows. He saw it in her eyes, and he felt it in her thundering pulse below his fingertips. Relief washes over him and a deep yearning grips his heart. Oh, God, how much he wants and needs her.

Malcolm knows too. He's spotted the difference in her eyes as she kissed each of his colleagues. His willing to bet money on the fact that she feels something for Harry, lucky bastard. However, whether it's lust or love he cannot yet tell.

Looking for something normal to do, Ruth glances at her watch and realises it's almost midnight. She says as much to the rest of the team, and they all decide to call it a night. Malcolm offers a lift to Ruth, who's staying on the same side of town as him, causing Jason to look momentarily disappointed.

“Anyone else need a lift?” Jason offers. Sophie accepts, and then they all say goodnight, and Lucas and Sarah walk off towards the tube station. As they walk back towards MI-5's car park, Ruth realises she's left her gloves in the pub, and turning around, goes back inside the building to fetch them. When she comes back outside, she finds Harry waiting for her.

“Where's Malcolm?” she asks.

“He had to go, so I offered to drive you instead,” he answers. Ruth frowns at him and he quickly reassures her. “ _Really._ He just got a phone call from his mother and was very anxious to get back home to her. Apparently she panics if she wakes up at night and he's not there. I couldn't bear to see him anxiously shuffling from one foot to the other for much longer, so I said I'd drive you home. He was so relieved at the opportunity to get going right away that he jumped at the chance. May I offer you a lift, Ruth?”

Ruth studies him for a moment and concludes that he's telling the truth. There is a definite tension between them that is much more pronounced after this evening's events, and feeling the need to relieve it, she smiles and says, “You just can't leave a lady in distress, can you?”

He chuckles and replies, “Apparently not. Shall we?”

Ruth nods and they walk side by side to his car. They drive in silence each lost in their thoughts, which run on a remarkably similar path. Harry's struggling with his desire to tell her just how much he's in love with her. He's pretty sure that doing that right now, however, without giving her time to get to know him at all, will backfire, and she'll end up believing that he's insincere and just trying to get her into his bed. He's learnt the hard way that no relationship can survive without trust, and jumping into bed together at the first opportunity is hardly going to help build it. He doesn't just want a quick shag, or a month long affair. With her, he wants it all.

Ruth is telling herself to take things slowly. She reminds herself that she knows very little about him, so no matter how much she wants to share his bed tonight, she vows to take the time to get to know him first, both at work, and hopefully, outside work too before anything physical happens between them again. In any case, it's hardly a good plan to sleep with the Section Chief on her first day of work. Of course, it's probably not a very good plan to spend your first evening after work encouraging your male colleagues to fight over you and then kissing them all afterwards. What the hell is wrong with her?

“Turn left up ahead,” she says, suddenly becoming aware that they're approaching her hotel. Harry complies and she adds, “It's the next one on the right.”

He parks the car and gets out, walking around to her side. He surreptitiously scans his surroundings, spotting a group of young men hanging out near the entrance to the hotel. Unfortunately, there are no other parking spots in this street, which means they'll have to walk past the group to get to the hotel. He opens the door for her and walks with her towards the building, doing his best to shield her from the men and hoping they don't notice her; he doesn't like the look of them at all.

“All right, Love,” one of the youths calls out as they walk past. “Ditch the old man and come join us.” His mates laugh and a couple of them move closer.

“Ruth,” he murmurs in her ear, “I don't like this. You can't stay here.”

She wants to argue with him, but truthfully, she doesn't feel safe here either. The two young men move closer still and Harry puts an arm round her waist and propels her towards the door of the hotel. They get inside quickly and make their way up the stairs to the first floor, where she opens the door to her room and they step inside.

“Pack your things,” Harry orders in a commanding voice. She turns around to protest, but he silences her by adding in a softer tone, “Please. I didn't mean it to sound like that. I'm just worried about you.” He sees her frown and quickly clarifies, “I would be worried about any member of my team who chose to stay here... Please, Ruth.”

She nods and begins collecting her things and packing them in her suitcase. It doesn't take her long, and about fifteen minutes later, they leave the room and go back downstairs. Ruth checks herself out at the front desk while Harry steps outside briefly to assess the situation with the young men. Unfortunately, they're still there though they don't pay him any attention. Perhaps they will be lucky, he thinks and goes back inside.

“Ready?” he asks and sees her nod apprehensively. “Stay close to me, walk fast, but don't run unless I tell you to.”

She nods again and they exit the hotel together. Harry carries her suitcase and places a protective arm around her waist. The group of young man watch them pass and jeer at them.

“Ignore them,” Harry murmurs near her ear as they walk briskly toward the car, but out of the corner of his eye, Harry sees the same two men detach themselves from the group and follow them.

“Get in the car and lock the door,” Harry murmurs as they reach it.

He unlocks it and opens the passenger door for Ruth, just as the two men come up behind him. Ruth's heart hammers loudly in her chest as she gets in. Harry slams the door closed, and she locks it quickly as he turns around to face the two youths.

“We don't want any trouble,” he says calmly and quietly.

“Then you shouldn't have come here,” one of the lads replies and takes a swing at him.

Harry quickly dodges the blow and hits the bloke in the stomach with the suitcase, but his mate grabs Harry from behind, pinning his arms to his side. Harry pushes back with his legs and slams the man onto the car, causing him to momentarily loosen his grip. The rest of the group of youths are now approaching fast and Harry knows he has to act quickly. He presses his advantage by driving his elbow into his adversary’s solar plexus, winding him and causing him to double over in pain. Then picking up the suitcase, he darts over to the other side of the car, and unlocking the driver's door, gets in, handing Ruth the suitcase and slamming the door shut before locking it. He starts the engine just as the group of men reach their car and start banging on the windows with their fists. Harry revs the engine and moves forward, causing a couple of them to jump out of the way, and without bothering to buckle his seat belt, he swings out into the road and speeds down the narrow street, leaving a group of irate, young men behind him.

He drives for a few blocks and then stops the car and turns to look at Ruth. “You okay?” he asks.

“Yes,” she murmurs. Her heart is still racing, and she's suddenly very grateful that Harry was with her tonight instead of Malcolm. “Thank you,” she adds and gives him a small smile. “It wasn't so bad in the day time. The clerk said it's because of the football game tonight. They've been having trouble with these young men after the games lately.”

“We'll report it,” he replies with a determined, steely look in his eyes.

Harry reaches across and takes the suitcase from her, pushing it into the back seat. Then he puts his seat belt on and drives off toward his home. He's angry, really angry. Those young men won't know what hit them when he gets into work tomorrow. He'll pull some strings with the police and have them locked up before they can say police brutality. He knows it's pointless to try now. One in the morning isn't the best time to call in favours.

He glances at Ruth and notes the pallor of her cheeks. A surge of protectiveness washes over him, and he wants to reach over to pull her into his arms. He turns his gaze back to the road and grips the steering wheel tighter. Thank God, those idiots hadn't touched her.

“Where are we going?” she asks some time later as it occurs to her that she hasn't thought about this yet. Her mind has been busy revisiting the scenes at her hotel. Now that the fear she felt at the time has subsided, she can't help but be impressed with the way Harry handled the situation and managed to get both of them out of there relatively unharmed.

“My house,” he replies.

“I can't stay at your house!” Ruth exclaims without thinking. Then blushing profusely she stammers, “I mean -”

“Ruth,” Harry interrupts, “I don't bite. I promise I won't lay a finger on you, but we can't go looking for a hotel at this time of night. I have a perfectly serviceable guest bedroom that you can use. I meant what I said earlier; you're welcome to use it until you can find suitable accommodation.”

Ruth knows that this is probably a very bad idea, but she realises that he's right. It's late to be looking for a hotel, and after his little speech, she feels that refusing would be churlish and would look like she doesn't trust him, which in this instance, isn't true. It's herself she doesn’t trust; after all, last time, he was the perfect gentleman, and she was the one who practically threw herself at him.

“Okay,” she says eventually.

Harry's a little surprised and very relieved when she gives in so quickly. His mood brightens as he realises that she trusts him enough to stay alone with him in his house.

 

* * *

 

“Here you go,” Harry says as he hands her a couple of towels. “Do you need anything else?”

“No, thank you,” she replies.

“Goodnight then,” he smiles and turns to leave her room.

“Goodnight, Harry,” she murmurs, “and thank you...for everything.”

“I'm glad I could help,” he replies as he turns to face her at the door. “Now get some sleep.”

“I will,” she answers and watches him leave the room and close the door.

It's a lovely room. The walls are a warm peach colour and the furniture is white and elegant. It's not the kind of room she'd expected to find in his house, and she realises that she has a lot to learn about him. She sighs and then, taking the things she needs, she walks to the bathroom across the hall and has a nice, relaxing shower. Then she gets into bed and falls asleep right away.

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

 

 

_Saturday, August 18 th , 1984_

_Harry's house_

 

“Good morning. Did you sleep well?” Harry asks, turning toward her and smiling as she enters his kitchen.

He's wearing a black shirt that's open at the collar, a soft, grey, v-necked jumper, and black jeans. He looks gorgeous and it takes her a moment to focus on his words and answer. “Yes, thank you,” she replies timidly. “What is that heavenly smell?”

“There's coffee and French toast,” he replies. “Would you like some?”

“God, yes,” she smiles, and walking up to the table, takes a seat.

He's already set the table for two and there is a pile of French toast on a plate in the middle. He pours her coffee and places it on the table for her before taking a seat across from her. Ruth picks up her fork and takes a couple of pieces of toast to put on her plate.

“Do you have cinnamon?” she asks.

“Probably,” he answers, and getting up, he goes over to look in his spice rack. “It's not very fresh,” he adds apologetically as he hands it to her. Their fingers brush against each other and he has to force himself to not react.

“Thanks,” Ruth murmurs and proceeds to shake some over her toast. “Aren't you having any?” she asks.

“I've already had two slices,” he replies but takes another anyway.

They both dig in and Harry smiles at the unconscious noises of appreciation she makes. He had difficulty falling asleep last night, knowing that she was in the next room, and he woke up earlier than usual this morning. He's glad that he chose to use the extra time to make breakfast. He glances at the clock and sees that it's approaching seven.

“I'll have to go soon,” he says. “I can give you a lift if you like.”

“Thanks, that would be great,” she replies. “How much time do I have?”

“Fifteen minutes max,” he says with an apologetic look.

“Plenty of time,” she smiles and turns back to her food.

His kitchen is spacious and very neat. There are two counters opposite each other with a sink on one side and the cooker and fridge on the other. The table they're sitting at is in front of a set of French windows that lead onto the patio. She looks out over the garden, which is made up of a large expanse of lawn with a few trees at the edges. A low maintenance garden.

“You have a nice house,” she says.

“Thank you,” he replies, “but it's got nothing to do with me.”

“No?” she asks, intrigued and surprised by his statement.

She studies him for a moment and notes the tension in his jaw as he looks out the window towards the garden. It's a painful subject for him, she realises. He remains silent for a moment lost in thought before he turns towards her and looks at her again. He senses that this is an opportunity to gain a little more of her trust, but it involves opening up to her, something he's reluctant to do with anyone.

“Jane and the children moved out after the divorce,” he says quietly. “She got a job in a school in Watford and chose to move there, leaving me with the house.”

She can see the pain in his eyes as he reveals this bit of information and can imagine what it cost him to share it. She's realised by now that Harry's a very private person by nature, just like she is, and that his years of training as a spook have made him even more reticent. She smiles gratefully and nods her understanding. She wonders why he keeps it when it must be full of so many painful memories, but then she realises that is must be full of good ones too, especially of his children. He drains his cup, and getting up, begins clearing the dishes.

She moves to do the same, but he takes her plate from her hand and says, “I'll do it. You go get ready.”

“Thank you,” she replies, realising that she doesn't have much time to do so.

Ten minutes later she's back downstairs and ready for work. She finds him in the kitchen just finishing drying the dishes.

“Ready?” he asks as he spreads the tea-towel over the back of a chair to dry.

“Yes,” she murmurs. “Thank you for breakfast,” she adds after a beat.

He smiles, and taking a key out of his pocket, he toys with it in his hands. A frown creases his brow as he watches the movement of his hands and he seems uncertain.

“Harry?” she says.

He looks up at her again and says quickly, “You'll stay, won't you? In the guest room... until you find suitable accommodation for yourself.”

She hesitates, uncertain of what the best course of action is. If she stays here with him, perhaps there will be more moments when he'll open up like he did this morning, but there might also be moments when they're both tempted to skip the difficult task of getting to know each other and go straight to the love making. His phone rings, intruding on their thoughts, and he moves to answer it with an apologetic look, slipping the key he's holding back into his pocket.

“Pearce,” he says, and she watches his expression darken as she hears an unmistakeably female voice answer him. Ruth can make out what the caller is saying, so she steps back into the hall to give him some privacy. She can still hear his side of the conversation, however.

“Hello, Jane... No... A week?! You must be joking... I know I'm their father, Jane, but... Of course I care... Can't you get a babysitter?... I... Yes... I see... This isn't... Fine! Fine!... No, I'll pick them up... Yes... At five then... I know where it is, Jane... Okay... Bye.” There is a pause. “Fuck!” he murmurs and then sighs heavily sliding a hand across his face. He walks into the hall and spots Ruth waiting for him, sitting on the bottom step.

“Everything okay?” she asks.

“Yes,” he replies in a voice that contradicts his statement. “Shall we go?”

“I'm ready,” she smiles and walks out of the house.

He sets the alarm, and locking the door, follows her to his car. He's silent on the way in to work and she lets him be for a while. As they get nearer their destination, however, she says quietly, “Harry?”

“Yes,” he replies and turns to look at her.

“I don't think I should stay at your house,” she continues. “I appreciate the offer, but it would be too hard for me.”

He's silent for a long time, and she's almost given up on getting an answer when he says in an impassive tone, “Okay. I'll give you a ride to a hotel tonight after work.”

She glances at him, but she cannot read him at all. His face is a mask of calm control, and it makes her wonder if she's just made a terrible mistake.

 

* * *

 

“Hello, Ruth,” Lucas smiles as he walks past her desk.

“Hi, Lucas,” she replies absently as she leafs through a report, frowning in concentration.

“Would you like to go out for a drink sometime?” he asks, quietly stopping in front of her table.

She looks up, and seeing the nervous expression in his eyes, feels a twinge of guilt. “Lucas... I'm flattered and I like you very much, but I've been thinking about yesterday, and I've realised that I've made a mistake. I'm new, and I need to keep my personal life out of my professional life for now, so I would rather not go on a date with any of my colleagues at the moment,” she explains quietly.

She sees the disappointment cross his face, but he nods with understanding and murmurs, “Maybe later then.”

She just smiles in response and that seems to satisfy him. He smiles back and walks off toward his desk. She watches him go and again berates herself for her actions yesterday. What the hell was she thinking? Or why the hell wasn't she thinking, is probably a better question. Shaking her head at herself, she turns back to her report. Luckily, Jason doesn't seem to be pursuing a similar course of action. She's been careful to give no encouragement to either him or Lucas all morning, so hopefully, this means that he's taken the hint.

 

* * *

 

It's ten o'clock by the time they make it back to Harry's house from work, hungry and exhausted. They've had a busy day at the office, and though it ended well, it was touch and go for a while. They drive in silence once more, but as they approach his house, he turns to her and says in his impassive voice, “Ruth, my ex and children will be at home by now, and I would rather avoid a scene. Would you mind waiting in the car for a few minutes, please?”

“Okay,” she replies quietly.

After his conversation on the phone that morning, Ruth had guessed that he would be having his children to stay with him for the week, and she can understand his reluctance to bring her into the presence of his ex. Apart from being awkward, it would also be rather pointless. What she finds hard to deal with is his reluctance to bring it up in conversation until he's forced to by their arrival at his house. He's been much more distant since this morning, and she can't work out if it's a result of her refusal to stay at his house, or some unresolved issues with his ex and children.

He parks in the driveway and leaves her in the car, walking up the path to the front door with dread. He unlocks the door and steps through it and into the sitting room.

“Hi, Katie, hi, Graham,” he smiles.

“Hi, Dad,” Graham replies quietly from the sofa.

Catherine ignores him.

“Where's your mum?” he asks.

“She left,” Graham answers. “Had to catch a train.”

“Oh, right,” he answers. “Sorry, I'm late. Have you had dinner?”

“Mum ordered pizza,” Graham replies.

“Good,” Harry nods. He watches them for a few moments, amazed at how much they've grown since the last time he saw them, even thought it was only about four weeks ago. “I'll be right back,” he says and turns around. Feeling rather unsure of himself and extremely guilty for failing to be home for his children on time yet again, he walks back out to the car and opens Ruth's door.

“Jane's already left,” he murmurs. “You can come in.”

“Everything okay?” she asks with concern. He nods but she can tell that it's not. She gets out of the car and waits for him to lock it. “If you need to talk, Harry,” she murmurs, touching his arms lightly, “to a friend. I'm here.” She squeezes his arm and turns away before he can reply. She doesn't want him to answer now; she just wants him to know that she's here for him. She walks up the drive to the house and waits for him by the front door.

He has to fight the pain and sadness that wells up inside him in the face of her concern, and it takes him a few moments to compose himself once more. Then he follows her to the house and opens the door for her. She walks through, smiling at him, and he closes and locks the door behind them. They remove their coats, hanging them up before moving through to the sitting room. As they walk in, Ruth spots a boy and a girl sitting on the sofa watching TV. The boy turns to look at them, but the girl ignores their presence.

“Ruth,” Harry says quietly, “these are my children, Catherine and Graham. Katie, Graham, this is my colleague, Ruth.”

“Hello,” Graham says and stands up, coming forward and extending his hand toward her timidly.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Graham,” Ruth smiles and takes his hand.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees a look of pride settle on Harry's face, and he reaches a hand towards his son and ruffles his hair with it.

“Daaad!” Graham protests, but as he sits down once more, she sees a small smile on his lips.

“Katie?” Harry says, frowning at his daughter. She continues to ignore him so his voice takes on a firmer tone as he says, “Catherine, look at me.”

The girl turns her eyes on him then with such a look of anger and defiance that it almost makes Ruth smile. It is the exact same look that Harry sometimes has on the Grid.

“What?” she demands.

“Don't be rude,” he growls.

“I don't want to meet one of your bitches, thank you very much,” she exclaims, and rising from the sofa, brushes past them and runs upstairs.

Ruth recovers quickly from her surprise and glances at Harry who looks stunned.

He turns to look at Ruth and stammers, “I'm sorry, Ruth. I don't... I don't know what came over her.”

“It's okay, Harry. She's just upset,” she reassures him.

“It most certainly is _not_ okay,” he says angrily and stalks out of the room towards the stairs.

Ruth sighs and looks at Graham. He's watching everything quietly from his place on the sofa and she feels for him. He doesn't look like Harry as much as his sister does. He has Harry's forehead and nose, and she can also see him in the expression of his eyes, though not the colour.

“I bet your dad and sister often quarrel like that, don't they?” she smiles.

“Yes,” he grins. “Sometimes it's worse. Catherine threw a paper weight at him last time we came to stay.”

“Must be hard for you to be stuck in the middle all the time,” she ventures, walking over and sitting down next to him.

He shrugs and turns his attention back to the TV.

“What are you watching?” she asks.

“I don't know,” he admits. “Catherine turned it on.”

He gives a big yawn and Ruth asks, “What time's your bedtime?”

He gives her a sideways glance before saying cheekily, “Eleven?”

Ruth laughs and replies, “I doubt that very much. I would guess it's nine at the very latest.”

“Nine's lights out,” he admits.

“Well, it's past that now so, why don't we go upstairs and you can get yourself ready for bed?” she smiles.

“Okay,” he says. “Do you want to see my room?”

“I'd like that,” she replies.

They get up, and Ruth switches off the TV before they go up stairs. As they climb the stairs, they hear Harry and Catherine having a shouting match. Ruth looks down at Graham, but he doesn't seem worried about this. He leads her to the room opposite Harry's, and when he opens the door, she's surprised to find a room decorated in a space theme.

“It's been like this since we moved,” he states, noticing her looking at the stars and spaceships on the walls. “I'm not really into space any more.”

“What do you like now?” she asks, turning to look at him.

“History,” he smiles. “Vikings, Romans, Greeks, Explorers, Knights.”

“I loved history when I was your age,” Ruth says. “My dad used to tell me stories that brought everything to life for me.”

“Do you remember any of them?” he asks eagerly.

“I certainly do,” she smiles.

“Would you tell me one?” he pleads.

“You get ready for bed and then come call me. I'll be in the guest room,” she replies and turns toward the door. Then she stops and says, “Don't forget to brush your teeth.”

He grins and she leaves, going to her room to get changed into something more comfortable. About five minutes later, there's a soft knock at her door.

“Come in,” she calls, expecting it to be Graham.

“Hi,” Harry murmurs as he opens the door.

She looks up in surprise and exclaims, “Oh! Hello.”

“I can take you to the hotel in about half an hour, if that's okay?” he says uncertainly.

“No,” she murmurs. “You don't have to bother, Harry. I can stay here one more night. You have enough on your plate right now.”

“Are you sure?” he frowns.

“Yes,” she smiles. “Don't worry.”

Just then Harry feels someone behind him, and as he turns around to look, Graham squeezes through the gap between the door and his dad saying, “Ruth, I'm ready.”

“Coming,” she smiles and watches him dart back out toward his room.

“What's going on?” Harry asks in a surprised voice.

“Graham asked me to tell him a story,” she says as he steps aside to let her through and she walks past him.

 

* * *

 

Harry comes out of his room, freshly showered and changed into jeans and a clean shirt. He feels much better. He pauses by his son's room and listens for a moment to the story Ruth's telling him. Her voice is quiet and soothing, and he finds himself relax as he lets it wash over him. Slowly he moves forward and peers round the door frame into the room. Graham's lying in bed with the covers pulled up to his chin and his eyes wide open, staring at Ruth. He glances at her, looking for the book she must be reading from, but he finds none. He realises in astonishment then that she must be telling the story from memory and he finds himself watching her as intently as his son is. When the story comes to an end, he sees her smile down at his boy and it warms his heart. She would make a good mother, he thinks, marvelling at what a remarkable woman she is.

As she gets up, she spots him in the open doorway and winks before saying, “Goodnight, Graham,” and stroking his son's soft, blonde hair.

“Goodnight, Ruth,” he replies, “and thanks for the story. It was amazing. Will you tell me another one tomorrow?”

“We'll see,” she answers, and turning toward the door, brushes past Harry and goes downstairs.

Harry turns to his son and hears him say, “Did you hear that story, Dad? Wasn't it great?”

“I heard some of it and it did sound good,” he smiles.

“How does she remember all that?” he frowns, looking puzzled and awed.

“It _is_ pretty amazing,” Harry replies. “Maybe it's her favourite.”

“Ruth said that her dad used to tell her it,” Graham says.

“Then it was probably very special for her,” Harry murmurs, suddenly feeling guilty about his own failings as a father. “What would you like to do tomorrow? I have half the day off and we could do something together.”

“I don't know,” Graham shrugs.

“Think about it and let me know,” he smiles. “Goodnight, Son.”

“Night, Dad,” he replies.

Feeling a little awkward and self-conscious, he leans down and kisses the top of his head. Then he turns around, and switching off the light, closes the door behind him. He notices that Catherine's door is closed, and pausing just outside, he murmurs, “Goodnight, Katie,” but he gets no response. Then he turns on his heel and goes downstairs.

He finds Ruth in the living room, sitting on the sofa with her feet curled up underneath her and a glass of wine in her hand. In her other hand, she's holding a book. She looks up as he enters and says, “There's some pizza in the oven and a glass of wine on the table for you.”

“Thanks,” he murmurs and turns toward the kitchen.

He takes the plate out of the oven and places it on the table where Ruth has put a place setting for him. Then he sinks down into the chair, sighing heavily.

“Tough day?” she says from the doorway, and walking into the room, adds, “May I sit with you?”

“Please do,” he replies, gesturing towards another chair.

“They're lovely kids,” she smiles after a few moments of silence. He gives her a doubtful look and she chuckles, “Teenagers are never easy, Harry.”

“No,” he replies, “but they shouldn't be rude either.”

“Grief, frustration, and disappointment have to come out somewhere, Harry,” she says quietly. “You should be happy that with Catherine it's in such an open way.”

“Maybe,” he murmurs and takes another bite of his pizza. “Graham's quite taken with you.”

She shakes her head and replies, “Not really, he just loves history. You should take him to the British museum. They have an exhibition on knights and medieval times. He'll love it. It's interactive and you can see what living conditions were like for both peasants and in castles. They also have some replica armour and swords that you can try on. It's amazing how heavy they are. It makes you realise just how strong they had to be.”

Her eyes sparkle in excitement and he can't help but smile at her enthusiasm. “I think you're right,” he says when she pauses. “I'll take him tomorrow on my half-day off. Would you like to come with us? It sounds like you'd enjoy it as much as he will.”

“No, thank you,” she replies with a blush. “You should take him alone. This is about you and Graham, not us.” They both simultaneously realise that this is the first time either of them has talked about 'us'. Harry's heart beats faster and he stares at her, but she recovers, and looking away, continues speaking quickly, “Anyway, I already saw the exhibit. It was the first thing I did when I arrived in London.”

He's still staring at her, so noticing that he's finished his food, she gets up and takes his plate and cutlery to the sink.

“You don't have to do that,” he says and moves to rise.

“I know, but I want to,” she replies. “You've had a rough day. Rest.”

“Thank you,” he murmurs gratefully and watches her wash up the dishes. She begins to hum a tune under her breath which he can't identify. “What song is that?” he asks.

Ruth blushes and murmurs, “She. It's by Charles Aznavour.”

“I don't know it, but it's a lovely melody,” he replies. “Don't stop.”

But Ruth is too self-conscious to continue. She puts the last thing on the drying rack, and turning around, dries her hands on the towel. Harry rises from the table, and topping up their wine glasses, he carries them to the sitting room while Ruth follows him. He sits on the sofa and puts the glasses on the coffee table next to each other, a clear invitation for her to sit beside him. She hesitates momentarily, but then she takes the seat.

“What were you reading?” Harry asks and picks up the book on the table.

“It's the Odyssey in Greek,” she smiles.

“Right,” he grins. “You only have a small suitcase with you, which tells me that you had to leave a lot of your things behind. And yet, Homer's Odyssey in Greek, no less, is one of the things you considered essential to bring with you?”

“Yes,” she replies quietly. “It was my father's copy.”

“I see,” he murmurs, his eyes softening as he looks at her.

They hold each other's gaze and the tension between them builds until, without conscious thought, they gravitate toward each other. Both seem powerless to stop it, and they soon find their lips millimetres apart, but then, quite suddenly, Catherine's words drift across Ruth's mind and she pulls back quickly, getting up from the sofa and taking a few steps to stand in front of the window. She looks out into the darkness, wrapping her arms around her middle protectively and taking deep breaths to steady herself. Harry leans forward and puts his head in his hands, disgusted with his lack of self-control.

Several minutes pass in silence before Harry murmurs, “I'm sorry, Ruth. I don't know what came over me.”

“It isn't that, Harry,” she replies quietly, her back still turned toward him. “I... I just can't cope with another shattered dream.” Then she moves towards the door, and turning to face him, adds, “Goodnight, Harry,” and goes upstairs to bed, leaving behind a surprised and very puzzled Harry on the sofa.

What did she mean by shattered dream? Was she referring to a previous relationship? So she thinks that he'll just use her and leave her? He knows that he did leave her once before, but he had no way of contacting her even though he desperately wanted to. Surely she understands the reasons why he had to keep his identity a secret? So why does she persist in believing him to be just after one thing?

And then he remembers Catherine's words and the calmness of Ruth's reaction, and he realises that she must know. She must have heard the rumours at work about his philandering nature, about the string of affairs he supposedly had while married to Jane. Of course most of it is untrue, but there's no denying that he was repeatedly unfaithful to his wife and it's something that he will always regret. He rubs his face roughly and sighs heavily. How is he going to convince her that she's different? That he's changed? That he hasn't looked at another woman since he met her? She'll never believe him.

With that depressing thought, he gets up, and carrying the glasses into the kitchen, he pours out the rest of the wine, and washing them quickly, heads upstairs to bed. His last thought before he finally falls asleep is that he won't give up until she understands, no matter how painful it might turn out to be for him.

 


	9. Chapter 9

 

_Sunday, August 19 th , 1984_

_140 Gower Street_

 

It's a quiet morning at work so far, for which Harry's very grateful as it will mean that he'll be free to take his scheduled afternoon off. He left the house before anyone else had woken up today. Ruth has the whole day off, so he didn't even need to give her a lift, and his kids are used to managing on their own when he has them to stay. His heart feels very heavy this morning, and deciding that a bit of fresh air would do him good, he grabs his jacket and makes his way to his favourite spot along the Thames.

Malcolm has been watching Harry carefully all morning, and he can see that something is not right. It's rare for Harry to display any emotion that isn't anger at work, but this morning he's been looking depressingly sad. So when he sees his friend pick up his jacket and go out, he grabs his own and follows. It's a testimony to how truly upset Harry is, that he doesn't spot Malcolm following him. He's usually very observant and can spot a tail better than anyone else on the team. After watching his friend lean against the wall and stare down at the water for fifteen minutes, Malcolm decides to risk his displeasure and approach him.

“Penny for them,” he murmurs as he steps close to Harry.

“Hello, Malcolm,” he replies quietly and looks up at his companion.

“You don't seem yourself today, Harry,” Malcolm says after a moment. “Anything I can help with?”

Harry frowns and shakes his head.

“Is it Ruth?” he dares to ask.

Harry's expression freezes for a second, but that's the only sign of his surprise. “Ruth?” he asks quietly.

“Yes, Ruth,” Malcolm replies in a light teasing tone. “You know... our new analyst, pretty girl with short, chestnut hair and blue-grey, sparkling eyes.”

“What about her?” Harry smiles in spite of himself at the tone Malcolm has adopted.

“I get the impression that your 'brief encounter' with her is not as 'long forgotten' as you might want me to believe,” he replies, still watching him carefully.

Harry turns to look at him, impressed by Malcolm's observation and analysis. All he can see, however, in his clear blue eyes is genuine friendship and concern. It occurs to Harry that Malcolm is the closest thing to a friend that he has in his life at the moment. Though they've never really spent any time together outside of work, they both value each other highly. Perhaps just this once, it would actually help him to talk to someone. Where to begin, however.

“I've never felt this way before, Malcolm,” he says eventually, looking out over the water, “but I made a terrible mistake in not telling her who I was when I first met her. How can I expect her to believe me now? Especially since, I'm convinced, she's heard the rumours about my numerous affairs.”

Malcolm is thoughtful for a few moments before he says, “The course of true love never did run smooth.”

Harry nods, recognising the quote from 'A Midsummer Night's Dream', and a small smile appears on his lips. “You're a wise man, Malcolm,” he murmurs.

“Does she return your feelings?” he asks.

“I don't know,” Harry admits. “There is something, but whether it's love...?” he shrugs.

They stand side by side looking over the Thames, both deep in thought.

“What I don't understand, Harry,” Malcolm murmurs after a bit, “is why you don't _do_ something about it. I mean, I've never seen you hesitate before. Why don't you talk to her, pursue her, woo her? When it comes to women, you've got a golden tongue, my friend, something, I'll admit, I've often envied.”

Harry's silent for a long time, struggling with his reluctance to open up to anyone. Several minutes later he whispers, “What do I have to offer her, Malcolm? I'm more than fifteen years her senior; I'm a failure as a father; I have chosen a career that is, at best, very inconvenient for relationships; I cannot offer her any of the things that she should have from her partner in life.”

Malcolm is stunned not only by Harry's openness, but also by the insecurities that he's just betrayed. He always appears so confident that Malcolm's never realised that so much self-doubt was lying hidden below the surface.

“Such is my love, to thee I so belong,

That for thy right myself will bear all wrong,” he quotes Shakespeare under his breath.

Harry turns to look at him, but Malcolm still appears lost in thought.

“You can't do this to yourself, Harry,” he says eventually in a firm voice, turning to look Harry in the eye, “and you have no right to do that to Ruth either. She deserves the right to make her own choices about her life. As long as you are honest about what you have to offer her, she will be able to do that. She's not a child and you don't make a good martyr. In our line of work, age makes no difference as you well know. As to the other things that you mentioned, she's in a unique position to understand them. She's already chosen the life of a spy, so being with you, loving you, will not change that in any way.”

They hold each other's gaze for a moment, and then Malcolm turns and walks back to work, leaving Harry to think over his words.

 

* * *

 

Ruth's sitting at the dinning room table with Graham, playing Monopoly. It's something she hasn't done in ages and she's enjoying herself. She and Graham are evenly matched, and so far, no one is winning. When she got up this morning, Harry has already left, something she was grateful for. Her plan for the day is to go house hunting, and she's already made appointments to see three flats this afternoon. For some reason that she doesn't want to explore right now, she feels that she should be at home with Graham and Catherine while Harry's at work this morning. Catherine, however, is still in bed, despite the fact that it's already nearing eleven.

When she'd got up, she'd had her shower and dressed before going downstairs. She'd looked in the kitchen cupboards and fridge to find out what there was to eat and discovered that there was very little. She'd found an old box of Coco-pops that she'd assumed was there from the last time his kids came to stay. After sniffing its contents, she'd decided that it was some time ago. She'd thrown it away and decided that she'd do some shopping for food this afternoon. It would be something she could do to repay Harry for his hospitality. She'd cleared out the cupboards, tossing out all the things that were past their best and making a list of what to buy to replace them. Then she'd turned her attention to the fridge. It was very clean and orderly, though rather low on content. She'd taken out some eggs and milk, and with the flour she'd found in the cupboard, which thankfully had not gone rancid yet, she'd made pancakes.

Just as the first one was ready, Graham had appeared downstairs in his pyjamas with his hair sticking up, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

“Good morning, Graham,” she'd said. “I'm just making pancakes. Would you like some?”

“Of course,” he'd smiled, suddenly wide awake.

“Get dressed then,” she'd replied. “No eating in pyjamas. Ruth's rules.”

He'd seemed surprised at that, but he'd run upstairs anyway coming back down in a couple of minutes with his hair still sticking up and his feet bare. She'd let him off the hook this time and watched as he'd devoured five pancakes in under three minutes.

“You'll give yourself indigestion if you eat that fast,” she'd said.

“They're really good,” he'd blushed and taken another one.

“You must be growing with an appetite like that,” Ruth had smiled.

“Yes,” he'd nodded proudly. “I grew an inch in the last month. Mum says, at this rate, I'll be taller than dad.”

“I bet you'd like that,” she'd winked.

“Yes,” he'd beamed. Than he'd added, “Is he going to be home early today?”

“I think that he's planning on taking you somewhere special this afternoon,” Ruth had replied.

“Really?” Graham had asked happily. “Where?”

“It's a surprise,” she'd winked. He'd looked disappointed so she'd added, “but he told me what it is and I can promise that you'll love it.”

Graham had continued to try to get her to reveal the secret, but of course, she hadn't. After they'd finished their breakfast, they'd sat down at the dinning room table and began playing Monopoly. It's turning out to be a very long game.

Graham yawns and says, “Can we take a break now, Ruth? I'm bored.”

“All right,” she smiles and they get up.

Graham goes back to his room and Ruth goes to make herself some tea in the kitchen. She's just pouring the hot water into her mug when Catherine walks into the kitchen. She freezes when she sees Ruth there, but Ruth doesn't give her time to feel awkward. “Good morning, Catherine,” she smiles. “There are some pancakes in the oven if you'd like them. Would you like some tea?”

Catherine merely nods. She looks much more subdued this morning, and Ruth guesses that she's really rather embarrassed by and sorry for her outburst yesterday. Ruth takes out the pancakes and puts them on the table, turning off the oven as she does so. Then she takes down another mug and puts a tea bag and hot water in it. She places it on the table next to the pancakes and leaves the room with a smile. She doesn’t want Catherine to feel mothered by her attentions. She knows that it would give the wrong impression about her role in Harry's house.

Going into the sitting room, Ruth resumes her reading of Homer though recollections of last night's events affect her enjoyment of it. She has to move out of his house soon for the sake of her heart. The longer she stays here, the harder it's going to be to leave, especially now that his kids are here. She loves kids, especially pre-teens like Graham. She's never liked babies and toddlers very much, but nine, ten, and eleven year-olds she loves to be with. When she was fifteen, she'd seriously considered becoming a primary school teacher.

 

* * *

 

They have lunch outside in the garden. Ruth makes a salad and sandwiches with the cheese and bread she finds. Catherine sits outside with them, and they eat in silence. Graham finishes first, and getting up, goes back inside to look for a ball to kick around. The back fence of the garden is tall and solid, and someone, presumably Harry, has painted a goal on it.

“Are you dating my dad?” Catherine asks suddenly, while Graham's inside the house.

“No,” Ruth replies. “He was just nice enough to offer me his guest room when the hotel I was staying at turned out to be somewhat dangerous. I just started work this week, you see, and haven't had a chance to find a flat yet.”

Catherine nods and then after a moment murmurs, “I'm sorry about what I said yesterday.”

“It's all right. We all say things we don't mean when we're angry,” Ruth smiles.

“I was very angry,” Catherine admits. “Dad promised he'd pick us up at five and he didn't... _as usual_. Mum was furious that she had to drive us here, and then she left us to catch her train, and Dad was still not back. He never does what he says he will.”

Ruth merely nods her understanding. She knows Catherine's just venting.

Graham comes back out just then, carrying a football, and says, “Will you play, Catherine? Ruth?”

“I'm no good at sport,” Ruth replies.

“It doesn't matter,” Graham says. “Come on. You can be on my team and we'll play against Catherine. She's really good.”

Ruth glances at Catherine and sees her smile lovingly at her sibling. “All right,” Catherine says, and getting up, grabs the ball from him.

 

* * *

 

Harry walks into the house. It's unusually quiet. He listens intently with apprehension, and all his senses are suddenly on high alert. Slowly her makes his way to the sitting room, then through to the dinning room, his heart beating fast. As he passes the window, he hears laughter coming from outside. He draws the curtains back carefully and relief washes over him as he spots his children and Ruth safely playing football in the garden. As he watches, the relief he feels is replaced by joy, and then a strong ache grips his heart and leaves him breathless. He watches his daughter dribble the ball past Ruth and Graham and take a shot on goal. She scores easily, and he's amazed at how good she's become. He knows that she's on her school's team, but it's probably been two years since he's been to one of her matches. Guilt makes his gut clench and he sighs. He hardly recognises his daughter now; no wonder she's so distant. As he watches, Graham manages to get the ball past Catherine and pass it to Ruth. She seems at a loss as to what to do with it and it makes Harry smile. Then she kicks out at it, and by luck rather than skill, manages to get it in the goal.

“Goaaaal!” Graham shouts and runs up to Ruth, giving her a big hug and making her laugh.

Catherine smiles at his enthusiasm and ruffles his hair. She's a good head and a half taller then her brother, but he's catching up fast. Harry lets the scene before him sooth his aching heart. Even though he was busy a lot of the time when his children were little and he was still married, these were the types of moments he enjoyed the most and the ones he misses terribly now. Sighing heavily, he steps back from the window and makes his way round to the back door. He opens it and walks out into the garden. Catherine spots him first, and he watches as her smile vanishes at the sight of him. Saddened by her reaction, he approaches the group and says, “Hello, Katie.”

“My name is _Catherine_ ,” she declares and stalks off towards the house.

Harry sighs and grits his teeth in resignation and more than a little irritation.

“Hi, Dad,” Graham says looking up at him uncertainly.

“Hello, Graham,” Harry smiles down at him and ruffles his hair, forcing himself to put Catherine's behaviour out of his mind for the time being. Then he turns to Ruth and says, “Hello, Ruth.”

“Hi,” she smiles though her eyes seem troubled momentarily, making him wonder if he's the source of her unease. How the hell did he manage to get to a point where the two most important females in his life are unhappy to see him, he wonders.

“Dad,” Graham interrupts, “Ruth said that you're going to take me somewhere special today, but she wouldn't tell me where. Are you really?”

“Yes,” Harry smiles down at the only member of his family who is apparently happy to see him. “We should go right away. Why don't you go get ready and ask your sister if she'd like to come?”

“Okay,” he grins and runs inside.

Ruth picks up the ball and together, she and Harry, follow Graham in silence.

“Would you mind taking that tray?” Ruth asks as they approach the patio.

“Not at all,” Harry smiles. “Thank you for taking care of them for me this morning. You didn't need to do that, but I appreciate it very much.”

“It's the least I could do,” she murmurs. “Anyway, I enjoyed it. They're good kids.”

“I saw you playing football,” he smiles as they walk into the kitchen.

“Oh, God, You didn't!” she exclaims. “How embarrassing. If I hear rumours about my terrible football skills at work, you're going to be in big trouble, Harry Pearce,” she glares at him.

“Don't tempt me,” he grins mischievously.

“You wouldn't dare,” she says, trying to frown at him but failing miserably as a smile threatens to escape her.

“Wouldn't I now?” he murmurs as his voice takes on a lower tone. “Be careful, Ruth, or I might take that as a challenge.”

“No, you won't,” Ruth replies with a smile, trying to ignore the way her heart is beating faster and her palms are starting to sweat.

“I won't?” he asks, surprised by her confidence and taking a step towards her.

“Not if you don't want me to reveal some of your, shall we say, less flattering secrets,” she smiles triumphantly.

“Such as?” he inquires, enjoying their banter too much to stop even though he can see that they're heading for troubled waters.

“That information is classified,” she replies. “After all, I did know you quite intimately once upon a time.” She looks away frowning and adds to herself in a whisper, “Or I thought I did anyway.”

He watches her face as it clouds over and the moment between them is lost. “I could never forget, Ruth,” he says quietly before he turns away. At the door, he turns to face her and adds, “And, for the record, you did know me. The real me, not some carefully constructed illusion as you seem to think.” Much as he would like to continue this conversation now and get everything out in the open, he knows that Graham, and possibly, Catherine will be downstairs at any moment now, and he doesn't want them to overhear anything. So he turns around and walks upstairs quickly to change his shirt before taking Graham, and hopefully, Catherine to the museum.

Ruth spends several moment in the kitchen deep in thought. Hope flares in her heart at his words, but she doesn't let her mind trust them. He's really good at his job, she tells herself firmly. Taking on a different persona is what he does all the time and he excels at it. What else could he have said under the circumstances? Well, he could have pretended not to hear, her heart whispers, and besides he didn't say it in a way that she would have expected if he was trying to seduce her. He sounded tired and disappointed, not charming and persuasive. She doesn't know what to think. Ruth rubs her eyes wearily and glances at her watch. This analysis will have to wait; it's time to get ready to see those flats.

 

* * *

 

She comes home laden with shopping bags. Harry had insisted that she take a key when she'd left because he wasn't sure that he'd be home when she got back. She unlocks the door and goes through to the kitchen where she finds Catherine making herself some tea.

“Hello,” Ruth smiles and dumps the bags on the floor by the fridge.

“Hi,” Catherine replies. “Do you want some tea? I was just making some.”

“Yes, please,” she answers and goes back to the front door to get more shopping.

She carries these back to the kitchen where Catherine's already putting things away in the fridge. Ruth is impressed, but then she remembers that Catherine's probably used to helping her mother.

One more trip to the front door and several minutes later, Ruth and Catherine sit at the kitchen table drinking tea and eating dark chocolate, digestive biscuits.

“Thanks for you help with putting things away,” Ruth says.

“I do it for Mum all the time,” she replies. “Thanks for buying some food. There's nothing in the house as usual.”

“You're quite hard on your dad, you know,” Ruth says quietly.

“Yes,” Catherine bristles. “Well, maybe he deserves it. It's his fault my parents split up in the first place. If he'd kept his dick in his pants, we would still be a family.”

Ruth nods, surprised that Catherine is so informed on the subject. But then she realises that she's hardly a child any longer, and she's probably overheard some comments that her mother has made and put two and two together. When Ruth had found out about Harry's affairs, she'd gone back to his file to see when he'd divorced Jane, sick to her stomach that she might have been one of them. Much to her relief, she'd discovered that he'd been divorced just over a year before they'd met.

“Have you talked to him about it?” she asks.

“No!” Catherine exclaims. “Why would I do that? Besides, he'd never listen to me.”

“You're almost grown up now, Catherine,” she encourages quietly. “I think he _would_ listen to you. Especially, if you conducted yourself like a calm, collected, young lady.”

Catherine is silent, thinking about Ruth's words. They hear the door open and Graham's excited voice in the hall calling to both of them.

“We're in the kitchen, Graham,” Ruth calls and gets up.

Graham darts into the room quickly, and taking a seat at the table, he launches into a lengthy description of everything he saw at the museum. Catherine and Ruth listen, smiling at his enthusiasm. Harry walks into the room silently and a little apprehensively, unsure of how Catherine will react to his presence this time. His daughter is as stubborn as he is and can keep a grudge for weeks, or perhaps years in his case. As he approaches the table, Catherine glances at him but doesn't get up, which he takes as a good sign. He takes a seat next to her, but she has her back turned toward him and is facing her brother. Ruth smiles at him, and touching her mug with her hand and then pointing at him, she raises her eyebrows in question. He nods, understanding her to be offering him some tea.

When there is a pause in Graham's excited monologue, Ruth says, “It sounds like you had a lovely time and the exhibit sounds fantastic. Would you like some hot cocoa?”

“Yes, please,” Graham exclaims, grabbing a chocolate biscuit and munching on it loudly.

“Would you like some, Catherine?” Ruth asks.

“No, thank you,” she replies, and getting up, leaves the room.

Harry watches her go sadly, and then turning to Ruth, says, “Could I have some too, please?”

Ruth smiles and proceeds to make the cocoa. She puts the two mugs on the table and asks with a frown, “How many biscuits have you had, Graham?”

Graham looks suitably ashamed and murmurs, “Five. Sorry, Mum.” Then realising his mistake adds, “I mean, Ruth.”

“If you're that hungry, get yourself something healthy to eat. How about some carrots?” Ruth continues, ignoring his slip of the tongue even though it causes a warmth to spread across her heart.

“Don't like carrots,” Graham replies making a face.

“Carrots?” Harry asks.

“I did some shopping,” Ruth explains. “Would you like some carrots, Harry?” she teases.

“I'd love some,” he grins, “but I think I can manage to get them myself, thank you.”

“Do we have celery?” Graham asks.

“Yes, we do,” Ruth replies, “Do you like it?”

“I love celery,” he grins.

“So do I,” Ruth says. “I probably should have bought more then, judging by your appetite.”

Graham smiles and gets up to get his celery. He takes it to the sink and washes it quickly before carrying it to the table while it drips all over the floor.

“Here,” Harry says to him, handing him a plate. “Use the plate.”

“Sorry, Dad,” he says sheepishly and then turning to Ruth whispers, “It drives him crazy when we're messy.”

Ruth laughs and replies, “I would have guessed as much judging by the neatness all around us.”

“What are we having for dinner?” Graham asks as he munches on the celery.

“Still hungry?” Harry laughs.

“Of course,” Graham grins.

“I know, Son,” he smiles. “When I was your age, your grandma used to complain that I never stopped eating. By the time I was your sister's age, I had to learn to cook because she refused to cook more than one meal a day.” Graham laughs and Ruth's intrigued by this glimpse into his childhood.

In the end, Harry and Graham end up cooking the chicken Ruth's bought, together. Ruth leaves them to it and goes upstairs to shower and change. She comes back down to find the chicken in the oven and Catherine in the sitting room.

“Hello,” she says and takes a seat by her on the sofa.

“Hi,” Catherine replies, looking up from her book.

“What are you reading?” Ruth asks.

“The Lord of the Rings,” she replies.

“I love that book,” Ruth smiles. “The descriptions are written in so much detail that it makes you feel like you're actually there.”

“I find them a little long winded,” Catherine confesses. “I'm sometimes temped to skip them and move to the action.”

“Who's your favourite character?” Ruth asks.

“Aragorn,” she says without hesitation. “He's brave, just, and a good leader.”

“Yes,” Ruth replies, “he is, though my favourite has always been Frodo. He's not dashing like Aragorn, who is born into his role as king. He chooses to take on the task of destroying the ring in order to save his beloved Shire, taking on the hardest task of all, and _then_ he has to deal with betrayal and danger all along the way. He's compassionate, brave, strong and persistent, and I admire him even though at the end he almost fails. In fact, that is what I like most about him. That he resists the temptation of the ring for so long, much longer than all the others. The fact that he gives in at the end, just makes him human, or hobbit-like rather.” Catherine laughs and Ruth adds, “and in the end, he's so changed by his journey to protect his country that he no longer fits in there and he has to leave everything he loves behind.”

They're both silent for a few moments and then Ruth murmurs, “You know, I've never thought about this before, but I think your father is very much like Frodo in many ways.” Catherine looks at her questioningly and she continues, “He's had to give up a lot to protect his beloved country from the forces of evil, depriving himself of a normal life with the result that he no longer fits into it any more. He's brave, compassionate, stubborn, and strong, and even though he has many failings, they just make him human.”

Harry feels tears spring to his eyes as he hears Ruth describe him thus. He's standing on the stairs listening intently. He didn't mean to be eavesdropping. He was just making his way to the kitchen to check on the food when he'd heard Catherine's laughter, something he hasn't heard in ages. He'd paused to listen to it, a smile creeping across his face, and ended up hearing the rest. He wipes the tears from his cheeks roughly, but he finds himself unable to move as Ruth speaks again.

“I know it's not my place to say anything,” she murmurs, “but I feel I need to because I know what it's like to lose one's father.” Her voice is shaky as she continues, “My dad died when I was eleven, just like Graham. I was very close to him and his death was very hard for me. When he died, I wanted to talk about him, the things we used to do together, the things he taught me, and I tried to do that with my mother. She couldn't cope with it, and three months later, she sent me off to boarding school in France. I thought that she didn't love me and was trying to get rid of me. It was the hardest time in my life, and I was lonely and heartbroken.

“I know now that I was mistaken. My mother does love me very much and she loved my father too; it's just that she had a different way of grieving to mine. Talking about my father was too painful for her, and so she couldn't cope with me doing so everyday. I think she hoped that sending me to boarding school would help both of us. She didn't recognise that I was more like my father, wishing to remain immersed in the memories of the times we'd shared. My mother just sold our house and moved away, starting her life over again.

“What I'm trying to say is that people are different, but that doesn't mean that they don't have the same depth of feeling that we do. I'm sure your father loves you and your brother very much, but you will never know that if you don't give him a chance to show you in whatever way he can. He doesn't have a normal office job, so it's unrealistic to expect him to be there for you every day. Just let him be there for you when he can. Like today. You heard how much fun Graham had at the museum, and even though it might not be your scene, you could have got something out of it too if you'd gone with them. You're denying yourself the happiness of being with your father and then blaming him for it.”

Catherine is silent for a moment and then says seriously, “You said you're not sleeping with him, but I'm not sure I believe you any more.”

She tries to get up but Ruth puts a hand on her arm, stilling her motion, before saying, “I'm not, but I won't lie to you and tell you that I don't have feelings for him. However, at present we _are_ just colleagues and the reason I'm here is the one I told you earlier. Never the less, please think about what I said. I'm not saying you should forgive him. All I'm saying is that you should talk to him before it's too late. You're old enough to know that his job is very dangerous and that it's very possible that one day he won't come home. Others have given up their lives to protect us all and sadly many more will in the future. I hope that your father is not one of them, but we can never be sure.”

Catherine rises from the sofa and walks towards the door. In the doorway, she turns and says, “I'll think about it,” indicating by her words that she's not angry at Ruth.

Harry hears her and realises that she's coming out, so he swiftly moves up a few steps before turning and coming down them again. Catherine passes him on the stairs and he smiles at her. She ignores him, but gives no indication that she believes that he's overheard her conversation. At the bottom of the stairs, Harry turns toward the kitchen and checks on the food. Then he takes out a couple of glasses, and opening a bottle of wine, he pours some in each glass and carries them to the sitting room.

He pauses in the doorway and looks at Ruth. She has her head in her hands and is staring at the floor, deep in thought. He lets the glasses clink together to alert her to his presence before walking into the room and stopping in front of her.

“I thought you might like a glass,” he smiles. “The food will be ready in about ten minutes.”

“Thank you,” she replies and takes the glass from his hand.

He takes a seat in the arm chair near the sofa, reluctant to sit next to her lest he bring back memories of last night. “Cheers,” he says and raises his glass.

“Cheers,” she responds and takes a sip.

“The museum exhibit was just a good as you described,” Harry continues. “I think I enjoyed it almost as much as Graham.”

“I'm glad,” she smiles, but she still seems distant.

“You okay?” he asks with concern.

“Yes,” she replies. “I'm fine. Maybe a little tired. I went flat hunting while you were out. I found a place, not far from here actually, but the present tenant won't leave until Saturday, so I can't move in until next week.”

“You're welcome to stay here until then,” he says immediately. “We would all love it if you did. Graham's already looking forward to a new bedtime story.”

Ruth smiles and murmurs, “Thank you. I'll think about it. I'll stay tonight, if that's okay. I don't think I have the energy to move.”

“Whatever makes you comfortable is fine with me,” he smiles.

They sit in silence sipping their wine each lost in their thoughts. Harry gets up in a little while to turn the food off, and after making a salad, he cuts the fresh, French bread that Ruth bought. “Dinner's ready,” he calls up the stairs and there's an immediate response. Graham comes bounding down the stairs, followed by Catherine in a more sedate manner.

When Ruth walks into the dinning room a couple of minutes later, she's amazed to find a beautifully laid table with a delicious looking meal on it. The children are already sitting down, but as soon as she enters the room, Graham jumps up and pulls out a chair for her. She smiles at him and takes the seat carefully, letting him push her in. “Thank you, Graham,” she says.

“My pleasure,” he smiles with a blush.

Ruth's sure the boy's developing a crush on her, which she knows is normal for his age though a little awkward in the present situation. Harry's amused by his son's attention to Ruth and a little proud of him. Catherine's a little bothered by it. Not only is her father infatuated with this woman, now her brother is too. She feels a little betrayed, especially since she can understand why they like Ruth. She's kind and unassuming, just fitting into their world without trying to take it over. It's quite refreshing really, especially now that her mother's dating that bloke, Simon, who's trying so hard to fit in that he makes things unbearably awkward and tense. Why couldn't her parents just stay together? Even the fighting was preferable to this feeling of being ripped in half.

 

* * *

 

Dinner is lovely and the conversation flows reasonably easily. Catherine's less hostile than before and actually addresses her father briefly in a normal tone of voice. After dinner, they play a game of Cluedo, which Ruth used to play with her parents before her father died. Ruth wins all three rounds, much to the frustration of the rest. By the time Ruth's finished telling Graham his bedtime story, she's exhausted, and deciding to give herself an early night, she goes to bed straight away. In any case, she doesn't particularly want to have another tête-à-tête with Harry tonight.

Harry stays up for a little while reading before also turning in earlier than usual. He isn't surprised that Ruth's avoiding him in the evening after his performance last night, but he can't help but be a little disappointed. Still he's happy that she can't move into her new accommodation until next week, and he hopes that the pull of his children will convince her to stay here with them in the mean time. He has to admit that he's never enjoyed having them to stay so much before. Somehow Ruth's presence diffuses the tension between him and them, making it easier to enjoy being together. God, what wouldn't he give to have her move in with him permanently...

 


	10. Chapter 10

_Friday, August 24 th, 1984_

_Harry's House_

 

“Finally!” Graham exclaims, “It's Friday!”

“What's so special about Friday?” Ruth smiles.

“We don't have to get up early again tomorrow,” he says in a surprised voice as if this is obvious.

“Yes,” she replies. “It must have been hard for you this week. What time do you usually get up for school?”

“Half past seven,” he sighs.

“Almost an hour later,” she nods. “I bet you'll be glad to be back home again.”

“Yes,” he acknowledges, “but I'll miss you and Dad.”

“I'll miss you too, Graham,” she smiles. “You'll just have to come see your dad again soon.”

“Absolutely,” Harry declares as he enters the kitchen.

“Do you mean that, Dad?” Graham asks eagerly.

“Of course I mean that,” Harry replies. “I really enjoy having you to stay. I'm going to miss you too.” Graham beams up at him and then continues to shovel his cereal into his mouth. “Is Catherine up yet?” Harry asks.

“Yes,” Ruth replies. “She didn't want breakfast thought, just a banana.”

“Catherine never has breakfast,” Graham declares in an amazed voice as if not wanting breakfast is the strangest thing he's ever heard of.

“Coffee?” Ruth asks.

“Please,” Harry replies, grabbing his toast from the toaster and putting it on a plate. Ruth reaches across him to get his mug, and he pauses in the act of buttering his toast to let her pick it up. She smiles as she returns to her side of the counter and pours his coffee. Then she places it on the table in his spot. It's amazing to her how they've managed to develop a routine together over this past week. Each of them has a spot at the table, she's learned what Harry likes for breakfast, and he knows how to make her tea. She knows that Catherine will only have fruit for breakfast and has already tired to tempt her with something other than her traditional banana. Graham will have two bowls of cereal, followed by three or four slices of jam on toast. They all have juice, except Harry, who always has coffee.

In the end, she hasn't managed to move out. On Monday they'd had a Red Flash, then they'd had to work late on Tuesday and Wednesday as well, and by Thursday they had already established a routine and it seemed like it wasn't worth it since her flat will become available early next week, on Monday if she's lucky. If she's honest with herself, she also couldn't bear the thought of moving to an impersonal hotel and leaving Harry's kids. They've wormed their way into her heart and she knows she'll really miss them when they go back home tomorrow.

“Time to get going,” Harry says and then calls up the stairs, “Catherine, time to go.”

She appears a moment later at the bottom of the stairs with her school bag and sports bag. “I have practice again today, Dad,” she says.

“All right,” he smiles. “What time do I need to pick you up?”

“It starts at four and finishes at half past five,” she replies impassively, convinced that her dad will fail to pick them up yet again.

“Graham, I'm sorry, but you'll have to wait for your sister to finish,” he says to his son.

“I know,” Graham groans.

“You could get your homework done again, like you did on Tuesday,” Ruth says encouragingly, “Then you'd have your weekend free.”

Graham nods gloomily and says, “Okay, I'll work in the library.”

“Good lad,” Harry smiles and puts an arm round his shoulder. “If you're not at the sports field with Catherine, I'll look for you in the library. Now, say bye to Ruth.”

“Bye, Ruth,” they both chorus and wave.

“See you later,” she smiles.

Harry winks and they all leave through the door to get into his car. Ruth will take the bus to work in a little while. Harry has done very well this week in getting his kids to school in the morning. It was only on Monday that he hadn't managed to do so because of the Red Flash. They'd had to take the bus and were late for school, much to their annoyance. Still, it's lucky that Catherine's fourteen already and can manage to get both of them to school on public transport. Ruth hopes that today is a slow day at work so that Harry can manage to actually pick them up for a change. On Tuesday when they'd had to work later, Ruth had taken Harry's car and gone to pick them up after Catherine's football practice as he'd been out in the field, but on Monday, Wednesday and Thursday they'd had to catch the bus back home.

Ruth never realised before how difficult it could be to juggle all these commitments when parents divorced, and inevitably, lived in different houses and sometimes different districts or cities. She sighs and goes back to the kitchen to wash up the breakfast dishes.

 

* * *

 

Ruth glances at the clock. It's half past three. She gets up and goes to the kitchen to make some tea. Sophie and Jason are out at the moment, but Lucas is sitting at his table working. As she passes his desk, she says, “I'm getting some tea. Would you like some?”

“Yes, please,” he sighs, rubbing his hands across his face, before turning toward her and giving her a brilliant smile.

She picks up his mug and walks to the kitchen. She puts the kettle on, and after washing out both mugs, she makes the tea and carries it back to Lucas.

“Thanks,” he smiles. “Have you found a flat yet?” he asks, trying to engage her in conversation.

“Yes,” she replies. “I should be able to move in on Tuesday.”

“Good,” he replies. “I bet it will be a relief to move out of the hotel you're staying at.”

“It will certainly be nice to be able to bring all my things up from my mother's,” she smiles, skilfully avoiding mention of her current accommodation at Harry's house. “I really miss my books.”

“I bet you do,” he grins. “You can borrow some of mine if you like, though I don't have many.”

“Let me know if you read any good ones and I might,” she replies and heads back towards her table.

Lucas watches her go for a moment and then turns back to his computer screen to finish his report. Ruth spots Harry sitting at his table as she makes her way back. He wasn't there when she got up to make tea and she's pleased to see him. He's focused on his computer screen and doesn't look up until she stops in front of his table.

“Hello,” he smiles.

“Hello,” she replies. “What are you doing?”

“I need to find some information and write up a report for Reynolds,” he answers.

“Would I be able to do that?” she asks quietly.

He looks at her in surprise and answers carefully, “Probably. Why?”

“I thought you might like to leave early to go watch Catherine's practice,” she replies.

Harry's speechless. Eventually he manages to say, “Well, I... I don't know what to say... You'd do that for me?”

“For Catherine,” she smiles, “and you.”

“Thank you,” he smiles back. “I would appreciate the opportunity to see her play.”

“Good,” she replies, “so tell me what to do.”

“Okay,” he nods and proceeds to explain to her what is required.

She nods in understanding and moves back to her computer to complete his report and finish her own work. Harry thanks her once more, and grabbing his jacket, rushes out of the building with his heart lighter than it has been all week. He's making progress with Ruth, slowly but surely.

 

* * *

 

Harry's pleased with the security at Catherine's school. They're very thorough in their questioning and investigation. They eventually let him go through to the sports field with the understanding that he needs to remain in the stands to watch. By the time he gets out there, it is already almost five, but at least he's missed all the drills and has arrived in time for the most interesting part of practice – the game. There's another man sitting on the bleachers a little further along the row from him, and it soon becomes clear that he's the father of another girl on the team. He cheers his daughter on, and Harry notes the embarrassment that this causes for the girl so he doesn't do the same. Catherine's noticed him sitting there and quietly admiring her best moves, including the goal she scores.

“They're very good this season,” the other father comments.

“Are they?” Harry replies reluctantly, realising that the other man expects a response.

“Yes,” the man replies, looking at him with surprise. “They have my daughter, Lindsey, and that other girl, Catherine, in front, plus a brilliant goal keeper. I think they'll make the finals this year. Is your daughter playing?”

“Yes,” he smiles, “but I travel a lot for work and I don't get to watch as many matches as I'd like.”

The man nods in understanding and asks again, “Which one is yours?”

Harry hesitates for a moment. It goes against every one of his spook instincts to identify his loved ones to strangers, but he realises that this man will know who his daughter is anyway at the end of practice, so not telling him now might make him suspicious. “Catherine,” he replies.

The man seems surprised but pleased and says, “She's an excellent player. My Lindsey and your Catherine make an unstoppable force.”

Harry nods and says, “They work well together and both have good skills.”

Just then the coach's whistle indicates the end of the game and their practice. The other man gets up straight away, and saying goodbye, he leaves the stands. Harry decides to wait for Catherine here. In any case, she's going to want to shower and change first, so he might as well enjoy the little bit of sunny weather they're having as it might be the last until the spring.

He only has to wait about fifteen minutes before she turns up.

“Hi, Dad,” she says.

“Hello, Catherine,” he smiles. “You played well. I'm a very proud father right now.”

“Thank you,” she murmurs with a blush.

“Sit in the sun with me for a few minutes,” he continues. “It's such a nice day.”

She looks at him oddly but comes to sit next to him, though not too close. She looks away across the stadium, and he watches her quietly for a moment. He wonders it he should say anything to her, try to talk to her. This has been the closest they've been to each other without fighting in the last two years at least, and he's reluctant to spoil it. On the other hand, he recognises that he will never get any closer if her doesn't talk to her. Just like with Ruth.

“I'm sorry I screwed up, Catherine,” he murmurs eventually and watches as her eyes snap to his in surprise. “I'm more sorry that you will even know and likely ever believe. I know I hurt you all very much, and for that, I will never forgive myself.”

She's silent for a moment and then says in a hurt voice, “Why?”

“I made a choice years ago to serve my country and protect it,” he replies after a moment as he looks away across the field, “and with that kind of choice come sacrifices. It's not just a job; it's a duty, one that has to come before everything else, including my life and the people I care about. It's not an easy choice, but it's a choice that I make every day because I truly believe that I'm very good at this job and I can make a substantial contribution to keeping everyone safe. Your mother never really understood this, and over time, we grew apart and were no longer happy together.”

Catherine is silent as she processes this information, but she can't help saying in an accusing tone, “You cheated on her.”

Harry hangs his head and nods sadly, “I did.”

“How could you?” she cries and stands up as if to leave, but remembering Ruth's words about being a calm, collected, young lady, she doesn't, clenching her hands into fists instead.

“I was wrong,” he murmurs quietly. “So very wrong.”

“But why?” she asks, still standing but turning to face him, her eyes flashing in hurt and anger.

“Do you really want to know, Catherine?” he asks quietly after a moment. “Because nothing I can say will justify it in your eyes or mine. It is a breach of promise that will be on my conscience always.”

She hesitates for a moment, but she realises that in order to forgive she needs to understand, so she nods her head.

“I loved your mother,” he says, “and during the first years of our marriage we managed to work through our differences. I believe that Jane thought that having children would change me, and it did change me, but not in the way that she'd hoped. When you were a baby, I used to watch you sleeping, and I felt this great need to protect you from all the evil in the world, and the only way I knew to protect you was to do my job well. So I ended up working harder than before. Your mother was unhappy that I was absent, and when I was home, she complained about it. Eventually it got to the point where, every time I would come home, I would feel like a failure. I was a failure in her eyes and soon I became one in yours. Over the years, I spent less and less time at home.

“The missions I was sent out on were dangerous and exciting, and when you know that you could be killed at any moment, it changes your perspective on things. It makes the present disproportionately more important than the future. I fell into that trap and started an affair with a fellow agent out of loneliness, convenience, and the mistaken belief that if Jane didn't know, it wouldn't hurt her. Once I'd started, it was a slippery slope from there, and even though I knew it was wrong deep down inside me, I refused to listen to my conscience, another thing I had to do a lot of at that time for operational reasons. Jane, of course, did find out and it was the last straw for her.

“It was never my intention to hurt any of you.” Harry looks at Catherine, but she's turned away from him. They're silent for several minutes, each lost in their thoughts. Eventually Harry says, “We need to get going. Graham will be wondering where we are.”

Catherine nods and turns to pick up her bags, but doesn't look at him. Harry stays out of her way, not even attempting to help her with her things. He knows that she has a lot to process, and he fervently hopes that he did the right thing in opening up to her like this.

 

* * *

 

In the car, Catherine's silent, but Graham more than makes up for it by telling them about his day in school. Harry uses the time to speak to his son, asking him questions about his teachers and friends. It's amazing how much information he gets from just one hour in the car.

As they walk in through the door, they're greeted by a heavenly smell. “That smells delicious,” Graham exclaims.

“It does,” Harry agrees.

They take their shoes and coats off, and Harry makes sure that Graham takes his school bag upstairs to his room. Catherine doesn't need any reminders as she makes her way straight upstairs with her things. Harry watches her go with a sinking feeling in his stomach, then sadly, he turns towards the kitchen.

“Hello,” Ruth greets him cheerfully. “How was practice? Did you get there in time?”

“Yes, thank you,” he smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes, and Ruth knows that something's up.

“Are you okay?” she asks quietly.

He nods and replies, “Nothing that a good meal won't solve. It smells delicious. What is it?”

“Risotto,” she answers, letting the subject drop as he's clearly not ready to talk about it.

“Hi, Ruth,” Graham says rushing into the kitchen. “What's for dinner?”

“Risotto,” she smiles, “but it needs another fifteen minutes. Do you want to help me make the salad?”

“Okay,” he replies and goes over to the fridge. “I remembered to wash my hands today, Ruth,” he grins.

“Excellent,” she says and proceeds to take the things Graham's handing her from the fridge.

Harry watches them for a moment with a smile. He's going to miss this when Catherine and Graham go back home and Ruth leaves. How on earth is he going to manage on his own again? He's had a glimpse of paradise and he can't bear the thought of losing them. He has to do something about it and he's running out of time. Quickly, he turns on his heel and goes upstairs to shower and change.

 

* * *

 

Half an hour later, they're all sitting down to eat, enjoying their meal and the opportunity to talk about their days. At least, Graham's enjoying the opportunity as he engages Ruth in conversation about it. Harry notices that Catherine is more relaxed now and joins in the conversation from time to time, which he takes as a good sign.

“Let's put some music on,” Catherine says as they finish clearing away the dishes.

She goes into the sitting room, and they hear her complain at the selection of music Harry has. It makes Ruth smile.

“Do you want to wash or dry?” Harry asks.

“I'll wash,” she replies. “You can reach all the cupboards.”

He nods and she turns up her sleeves and begins. In the mean time, Catherine has finally given up on looking through Harry's classical music collection and has switched on the radio. Ruth hums along to some of the tunes, most of which Harry is unfamiliar with, and it suddenly makes him feel old. He vows to turn on Radio One in the car every morning in the future.

They finally finish the dishes, much to Harry's relief because he's beginning to find it hard to control his reaction to watching Ruth wash them. It surprises him how erotic it is, until he gets a flashback of Jane doing the same thing years ago when the children were little in exactly the same spot. He'd found that equally stimulating, and he remembers that it had resulted in the two of them making out by the sink in the kitchen, her soapy hands running through his hair... He shakes his head to clear it and looks away, surprised and confused.

“You okay?” Ruth frowns at him.

“Fine,” he replies, handing her the towel to dry her hands.

She takes it and drapes it over the back of the chair when she's finished using it. She's about to say something when there's a crash from the next room, and they both move toward it quickly. They find a very surprised looking Graham on the floor.

“You okay?” Catherine asks.

“Yes,” he replies with a blush, getting up quickly.

“What happened?” Harry asks.

Graham looks at his sister imploringly so she smiles, and turning to her father, says, “He just slipped, Dad.” Graham looks relieved and Harry suspicious, though since nothing's broken he lets it slide.

“Dance with us, Ruth,” Catherine invites and starts moving in rhythm to the song on the radio.

Ruth agrees, happy in the knowledge that Catherine has warmed to her considerably over the last few days. Harry sits down on the sofa, preparing to watch the three of them dance.

“Oh, no, you don't,” Ruth says, shaking her head at him and offering him her hand. “If I have to dance, so do you.”

He takes her hand, smiling and getting up, begins to dance with her. He spins her round expertly, dancing with her for a little while before turning to his daughter and offering her his hand. She hesitates for a second, looking at his hand and then up at his eyes. Then she smiles, and taking his outstretched hand, she dances with him while Ruth turns to Graham. The music is fast and energetic, and they dance for quite a while, pausing for a few moments between songs while the DJ speaks.

Then suddenly, the music changes and a slower song begins to play, though it still has enough rhythm to not make it awkward. Catherine grabs Graham and shows him how to dance with her, leaving Harry and Ruth to dance with each other. Harry holds out his hands in a waltz hold, smiling uncertainly at her. She smiles back, and stepping into his arms, they dance together moving in perfect harmony as if they've been doing it forever.

Ruth listens to the lyrics and turns to look at him as she takes in what they're saying. He gazes at her, his hazel eyes shining, and her heart skips a beat. They sway in rhythm to the music, their eyes locked together as Barry White sings:

 

“You're the answer to all my dreams.  
You're my sun, my moon, my guiding star,  
My kind of wonderful, that's what you are.  
I know there's only, only one like you,  
There's no way, they could have made two.  
You're, you're all I'm living for;  
Your love I'll keep for evermore.  
You're the first, you're the last, my everything.”

 

She feels tears spring to her eyes and she blinks rapidly, trying to clear them away. He pulls her close until her cheek is resting on his chest and they continue to sway silently to the music, listening to Barry's words. So much of what they feel is expressed in this song, and they both know that, from now on, this song is their song. No matter what happens, it will always remind them of each other and the dance they shared.

 

“In you, I've found so many things,  
A love so new only you could bring.  
Can't you see it's you,  
You make me feel this way.  
You're like a fresh morning dew  
On a brand new day.  
I see, so many ways that I  
Can love you, till the day I die.  
You're my reality, I'm lost in a-a-a dream;  
You're the first, the last, my everything.”

 

Ruth squeezes him tightly and he responds by doing the same, letting her know that he feels it too. Over the top of Ruth's head, he watches his children dancing together and he smiles. This is probably going to be his favourite memory in this house. Catherine catches his eye and she smiles, the first genuine smile he's seen from her in at least a year. He realises that he has so much to thank Ruth for and he promises himself that he will show her just how grateful he is.

The song comes to an end, and sensing that Ruth is too emotional to continue with dancing, he says, “All right, Katie... I mean Catherine, and Graham, time for bed.”

“Ooooh, Daaad,” Graham complains. “Not yet, just one more song.”

“Go on, Dad,” Catherine smiles. “It's my turn to dance with you now.”

Harry can't help the big grin that spreads across his face, and he relents, “Just one more then.”

He takes his daughter in his arms and dances with her, again surprised at how well the lyrics reflect his feelings. He sees Ruth out of the corner of his eye and notes that she's recovered from her emotional moment. She's dancing with Graham, who looks like he's over the moon. Harry smiles.

“She's nice, Dad,” Catherine whispers.

“I know,” he murmurs and pulls her tightly to his chest.

She responds by hugging him back and they listen to the music as Cyndi Lauper sings:

 

“Sometimes you picture me,  
I'm walking too far ahead.  
You're calling to me, I can't hear  
What you've said.  
Then you say, “Go slow,”  
I fall behind.  
The second hand unwinds.

 

If you're lost, you can look, and you will find me,  
Time after time.  
If you fall, I will catch you, I'll be waiting  
Time after time.”

 

“I love you, Katie,” he murmurs into her hair.

“Catherine,” she corrects him, but her eyes are sparkling, betraying her joy at hearing him say that.

He chuckles and then lets her go as the song ends. “Right, bed, now,” he says in mock severity.

“Goodnight, Ruth,” Catherine smiles, and then turning to Harry, she adds, “Goodnight, Dad,” and kisses his cheek.

“Goodnight, Catherine,” Harry and Ruth say simultaneously, causing all four of them to smile.

“Will you tell me a story, Ruth?” Graham asks.

“Of course,” she smiles. “I just remembered one today that I think you'll like. It's about the Vikings.”

“Great,” Graham grins and rushes upstairs to get ready. Catherine follows him in a more sedate manner, shaking her head at his enthusiasm.

“Thank you,” Harry murmurs close to Ruth's ear, making her spin round in surprise and almost collide with his chest. He reaches out his hands to steady her and she finds herself staring at his chest. His smell envelops her and memories of their time together swim across her mind. She closes her eyes and shakes her head in the hope of clearing it.

“Ruth?” he murmurs in a husky tone.

“Mmmmm?” is all she can manage.

“I love you,” he whispers.

Ruth's eyes snap open and she takes a step back. She must have misheard him. She opens her mouth to speak, but no words will come out. She just stares at him in surprise.

“Don't you believe me?” he asks quietly.

“I... I...,” she stammers.

He takes a step closer and reaches his hand up to her cheek, stroking it lovingly with the back of his fingers as he says,

“Doubt thou the stars are fire,  
Doubt the sun doth move,  
Doubt truth to be a liar,  
but never doubt I love.”

“Shakespeare,” she murmurs as she stares into his loving eyes.

He smiles. “I have loved you for three years, one month, seven days, and ten or so hours, and I have thought of none but you since the day we met. I'm so sorry that I lied about who I am and what I do. I have regretted it every moment of every day since then. I came so close to telling you the truth and I missed you so much when you were gone. I would like to take you out to dinner if you'll let me. I don't have a lot to offer you. You know what my life is like, the kind of decisions I have to make, the kind of hours I have to work, the kind of danger I will be in. I'm a terrible father and I was a worse husband, but I give you my word that I will do my best to make you happy and that I will _never_ cheat you in any way. I hope you can believe me because I've never felt this way before.” He pauses and then adds in a whisper, “You're the first, the last, my everything.”

“Ruth,” Graham's voice drifts down the stairs, “I'm ready.”

“I'm coming,” Ruth calls as she continues to stare at Harry.

“Please, think about it, Ruth,” he murmurs, and leaning forward, kisses her cheek before he takes a step back and leaves the room.

Ruth remains rooted to the spot for long moments, her hand unconsciously touching her cheek where she can still feel Harry's lips. Then slowly she pulls herself together, and makes her way up the stairs trying hard to get her thoughts into order so she can tell Graham his story. She pauses in the doorway to his bedroom, and taking a deep breath, she lets it out very slowly before she walks in, and sitting down, begins to talk.


	11. Chapter 11

_Friday, August 24 th, 1984_

_Harry's House_

 

Ruth comes back downstairs, looking for Harry. How could he declare his love and say all those romantic things to her just before he _knew_ she would have to go up to Graham? Bloody, typical man. If she didn't love him so much, she'd kill him. She walks through the kitchen, the sitting room, and then the dinning room without luck. Where the hell is he? She's debating with herself whether to go look in his bedroom when it occurs to her that he might be outside. She peeks through the curtains, and sure enough, there he is, standing outside, gazing at the stars. She walks to the back door, steps outside, and immediately regrets it. Although the day was lovely and warm, there is a definite chill in the air tonight, probably a result of the clear sky and the wind that has picked up since this morning.

Shivering slightly and rubbing her arms, she takes a few steps forward saying, “Are you trying to catch pneumonia? Is this part of your clever plan to land yourself in bed so that I stay to nurse you back to health, or is it a more sinister plan to make my life easier by doing away with yourself?”

He turns toward her chuckling and shakes his head, “I needed to think.”

“Well, clearly,” she teases, “you're failing. Come inside before you catch your death.”

Shivering, she turns on her heel and goes back into the house. Harry watches her go and can't help the hope that flares in his chest at her teasing remarks. She seems more relaxed than she usually is around him as if she's stopped holding herself back. His heart beats faster as he goes inside the house. He finds her in the kitchen putting the kettle on. She's clearly still cold as she's rubbing her hands together to warm them.

“I have something better,” he smiles, and going into the dining room, comes back with two glasses of brandy.

“Oh, so now we're onto your back up plan of getting me drunk in order to seduce me,” she says, raising an eyebrow at him.

He laughs out loud this time and elicits a smile from her. She takes the brandy from his hand and takes a sip. It really does its trick and she can feel the warmth radiate out from her stomach, though on second thought, maybe it's his proximity that is responsible for that, rather than the alcohol. He drains his glass in one gulp and watches as she does the same, making a face at the strong taste of the amber liquid.

“Don't like it?” he asks.

She shakes her head and putting the glass on the counter she says, “I can think of several better ways to warm up.”

“Really?” he murmurs. “Give me a for instance.”

“I can do better than that,” she smiles. “Come here.”

He takes a step towards her so that he's standing in front of her. His eyes watch her carefully, but the smile never leaves his lips. Slowly she lifts her hands to his waist and starts to pull on his shirt, making it slide out of his waistband. Then she works her fingers under the material and pushes her hands to his back, pressing them suddenly against his bare skin.

“Fuck!” he exclaims as her ice cold fingers make contact with his warm skin, and he shifts forward automatically, away from them. His motion pushes Ruth backwards and she finds herself trapped between the counter and Harry's body.

“That's more like it,” she whispers and kisses him. His arms wrap around her as he responds to the feel of her lips on his. The kiss becomes hot, hard, and demanding very quickly as years of pent up want and passion take control of both of them. What seems like hours later they pull apart, but he continues to hold her tightly to his chest as she rests her cheek against it and their rugged breathing slowly calms.

“I've missed you,” she whispers.

“I was terrified that I'd lost you,” he replies.

She shakes her head and murmurs, “I was just scared that I was just an asset to you.”

“You were never just an asset,” he replies. “That's why I asked you to call me Harry. Remember? On the beach.”

“How could I forget?” she smiles. “You gave me a glimpse of Eden.”

He smiles and kisses her hair. “Let me take you out tomorrow night,” he says after a moment.

“Yes,” she answers.

The kettle clicks as it comes to the boil and Harry releases her to make tea. She doesn't want to let go of him, so she steps behind him and wraps her arms around him, letting her cheek come to rest between his shoulder blades. She hums contentedly.

About a minute later, he says, “It's ready. Come.”

She lets him go and follows as he walks into the sitting room. He puts the mugs on the coffee table and sits down on the sofa. This time she doesn't hesitate before sitting next to him and pressing herself against his side. He lifts his arm and wraps it around her shoulders as she leans into him. His smell envelopes her again and she's surprised by how quickly desire stirs inside her. Briefly, she wonders what it is about smells that cause such sudden reactions and bring back memories so quickly. The scent of freshly cut grass, for example, always reminds her of summer holidays in Exeter, and the aroma of fire wood burning brings back memories of her father and sitting in front of the fire with him in the winter, reading.

“What are you thinking?” he asks quietly as he watches a smile play at the corners of her mouth.

“I was thinking that I feel like I've come home,” she replies after a moment's hesitation. “I feel comfortable, safe and...” she pauses, looking for the right word. “Cherished,” she says eventually. “I haven't felt like that in a long time. Not since Dad died,” she continues, her voice breaking and tears beginning to slide down her cheeks.

“Oh, Ruth,” he murmurs, turning his body round a little and lifting her chin up to look at him with his free hand. “Don't cry, Love. Don't,” he continues, wiping away her tears with his thumb.

He leans his head forward and kisses her lips repeatedly, gently, lovingly, and almost reverently. Her hand slips behind his neck and her tears dry up as her attention shifts to the present and Harry, her Harry. She whimpers slightly when his tongue darts out and slides across her bottom lip, tasting the salt of her tears. She parts her lips in invitation, but he doesn't give her what she's asking for yet. He changes the position of his kisses, from her lips to the corner of her mouth and back again; he changes their rhythm and intensity; he uses his tongue and then his lips to suck and lick, and she responds, following his lead as their lips dance together, just like their bodies had done earlier this evening. When they finally move apart, they are both sated, and they realise that loving each other like this is enough for now.

“Stay here with me,” he whispers into her hair. “Don't leave on Tuesday. Don't ever leave.”

She nods and leans her head forward resting her forehead on his shoulder.

“Dance with me,” she murmurs into his shirt.

“Yes,” he smiles, and she leans back so they can get up.

Harry walks over to his record player and turns it on. Ruth follows him and stands next to him, watching as he runs his index finger along his selection of records.

“Oh,” she exclaims suddenly, and leaning forward, pulls out an Edith Piaf record. “I love this song,” she says as he takes it from her hands.

He smiles and nods his head. Perfect. He'd bought it in a small record shop in Paris some time ago. Carefully he takes it out of its cover and places it on the machine. He lifts the needle and gently lowers it onto the LP, and slowly the room fills with the sound of Edith's voice as she sings 'La Vie en Rose'. Harry and Ruth move together and dance slowly in each other's arms, savouring the contact and the feeling of bliss that has settled over them. Ruth sings along in perfect French and it makes him smile.

“I never knew this song was about you,” she whispers. “That's how you make me feel.”

He holds her tighter and finally lets go of all the self-doubt he has, all the nagging thoughts that are always at the back of his mind - their age difference, the family that he can never give her, the danger he'll put her in, the grief he'll cause her if he's killed - all those things disappear like smoke, and he feels a great weight lifting off his shoulders and heart. “I don't deserve you,” he murmurs.

She chuckles and replies, “Maybe not, but I happen to think that's a good thing. Just promise me something... Promise me that you'll never lie to me... about us. I know at work you might have to keep things from me because of clearance levers, but when it's about us and our relationship, please, don't ever lie to me. Even if you change your mind and decide that you're too good for me one day, I would rather you tell me.”

“I promise,” he says solemnly. “I will never cheat on you, Ruth. I've tried that and I cannot begin to describe how lousy it made me feel afterwards and how much I regret the hurt it caused Jane. Believe me, if I could do it over again, I would do everything differently.”

“You should tell her that some time,” Ruth smiles, kissing his cheek.

“She'd never let me finish my sentence,” he shakes his head sadly.

“It would give her closure, Harry,” she says seriously. “It's hard to let go of something when the other person has never acknowledged their mistakes, or apologised for them.”

“I have apologised,” he says in an exasperated voice.

“Perhaps it's your tone of voice that's the problem,” she replies. “She probably doesn't think you're sincere.”

He opens his mouth to argue with her, but she silences him by pulling his head down and kissing him firmly on the lips. “You're so sexy when you're angry,” she murmurs and kisses him again.

He gives in, his anger forgotten, and pulling her closer, he deepens their kiss. The heat rises between them again and he has to fight his desire in order to pull back. He doesn't want to rush this, and he also doesn't want his kids in the house when they finally come together again. He kisses her softly, gently, like he did earlier and she responds, immediately understanding and accepting the reasons behind his shift in pace. Eventually he pulls back and she smiles at him.

“It's late,” she says. “Let's go to bed, or else you might lose your temper again, and I can't guarantee that I'll be able to refrain from ripping all your clothes off forthwith.”

He laughs, and taking her hand, guides her to the stairs. He walks her to her room, and raising her hand up to his lips, he kisses her knuckles. Then turning it over, he plants a kiss on her palm before smiling at her and letting her go. She enters her room quietly and begins to close the door, but she pauses when the gap is as wide as her shoulders and watches him walk to his room. When he turns to look at her, she blows him a kiss, making him smile. Then she turns into her room, closing the door and leaning against it.

A smile creeps across her lips and it slowly turns into a grin. Harry loves her! She hugs herself tightly with joy, and then stretching her arms up high, she raises herself on her tiptoes and spins around the room. All those years of dance lessons at boarding school finally pay off as she manages to maintain her balance and gracefully make her way around the room twice before she stops once more, out of breath. She sighs happily and strips off her clothes, tossing them onto a chair, and slips into her pyjamas and her bed. It's too late for a shower and brushing her teeth. She wonders what Harry would say about that, or the state of her room. She grins happily again, knowing that he would probably say something about order and discipline. Just the thought of him makes her agitated again, and she tries valiantly to turn her mind to other less stimulating things. Half an hour later she's still struggling, and she sighs heavily as she realises it's going to be a long night.

Meanwhile, Harry has already got himself ready for bed, complete with showering and cleaning his teeth. Twice he's had to stop himself from whistling when a few notes escape his lips. He's slightly disgusted with himself and his lack of self-control. He's acting like a teenager for Christ's sake. Once he gets in bed, sleep eludes him. He's too agitated to sleep and he's having serious trouble controlling his thoughts, which are trying to drift toward Ruth and how it felt to kiss her and hold her against him. Soon x-rated recollections take over his mind and his sex starved body responds quickly and potently. How long did he say it's been? Three years, one month, seven days and a bit. Oh, God! He gets up, and going to the en-suite, turns on the cold water in the shower and gets in. He swears through clenched teeth as the cold water hits his chest and runs down his body. The trick works, however, and he's back in control of himself when he gets out. He gets back in bed and makes sure this time that his thoughts are directed toward the most mundane topics he can think of. It works, and eventually, they both fall asleep.


	12. Chapter 12

 

_Saturday, August 25_ _th_ _, 1984_

_Harry's House_

 

“Morning,” Catherine greets as she enters the kitchen.

“Good morning,” Harry replies from his seat at the table.

“Where's Ruth?” she asks.

“She left a note to say she's gone shopping,” he shrugs. “Have some breakfast.”

“No, thank you,” she replies.

“Come on,” he encourages quietly. “Look, it's all ready for you at the table.”

Catherine glances at her spot, and sure enough, there's a banana and a sliced mango waiting for her. “Did you do that?” she asks in surprise.

“Of course,” he replies seriously.

Catherine studies him for a moment and then says, “No. You can't fool me. It was Ruth.”

“No, _really_ ,” Harry insists in a quiet voice and his face takes on a wounded look.

Catherine relents and murmurs, “I'm sorry, Dad. Thank you. It was very thoughtful of you.”

“My pleasure,” he smiles.

Catherine sits down next to him and begins to eat her mango, looking at him apologetically every so often. “It's really good,” she smiles and eats it all up.

When she's finished, Harry murmurs, “Actually, it _was_ Ruth. She got it ready for you earlier.”

Catherine stares at him for a moment as an annoying smirk spreads across his face. “You... you..” she stammers in indignation, and getting up suddenly, she launches herself at him, almost knocking him to the ground.

“Katie _!_ ” he exclaims, her attack taking him completely by surprise.

“You are a no good... lying... deceitful,” she pants as she worms her fingers into his sides pinching him repeatedly.

“Oww!” Harry says and tries to grasp her rapidly moving hands.

She fights valiantly, but she's no match for Harry now that he's recovered from his surprise, and he soon has her on his lap with her back towards him, pinned to his chest and unable to move.

“Did I miss something?” Ruth asks from the doorway.

“Let go!” Catherine exclaims.

“I wish I had a camera,” Ruth smiles. “What happened?”

“Catherine attacked me,” Harry replies in a rather surprised and wounded tone.

“Yes, well, that was because you tricked me,” she says stubbornly.

“Well, it worked,” he answers back. “You actually ate the mango today _and_ you enjoyed it.”

“I would have eaten it anyway,” she replies with a huff.

“No, you-” Harry says quickly, but he's interrupted by Ruth.

“Now, now, children,” she says seriously. “No more arguing, or I'll have to send you to your rooms.”

“But she _pinched_ me!” Harry complains.

“Awww,” Ruth murmurs in mock concern. “Would you like me to kiss it better?”

“Yes, please,” he grins suddenly, and releasing Catherine, he pushes her off his lap onto her chair.

Ruth raises her eyebrows at him and then says, “I see what you mean, Catherine. Give him a pinch from me too next time.”

Catherine laughs and makes a move towards Harry, but he lifts a hand in warning to let her know that he's ready for her this time.

“Now,” Ruth continues, “would one of you please help me put the shopping away?”

“I'll do it,” Catherine says jumping up from the table and setting to work.

“Are there any more bags outside?” Harry asks as he gets up too.

“A few, yes,” Ruth smiles.

“I'll get them,” he offers, and winking at her, he makes his way to the front door.

 

* * *

 

“Good morning, Sleepyhead,” Ruth says as Graham walks into the kitchen.

He's washed and dressed, which is a great improvement on the state he was in for breakfast at the beginning of the week. “Good morning, Ruth,” he smiles, “Morning, Dad, Catherine.”

“Morning, Son,” Harry says.

“Hi,” Catherine replies. “Want some strawberries?”

“Strawberries?” he asks in surprise. “You bet!”

“Ruth went shopping,” Catherine explains as she cuts up the last of the strawberries and divides them into four bowls. “These look delicious, Ruth.”

She carries them to the table, where Harry's drinking his second cup of coffee and Graham's helping himself to his first bowl of cereal. Ruth is sipping her tea and munching on a slice of toast with Marmite.

“I know what we need!” Catherine exclaims suddenly, and walking over to the fridge, she rummages around at the back. “Aha!” she says triumphantly and holds out a pot of whipped cream. “This will be perfect with them.”

She carries it to the table, grabbing a spoon from the cutlery drawer on her way, and opens it up, sniffing it to make sure it's still edible. Then she dishes out the cream.

“You know, Dad,” she says suddenly, “I have to ask; I've been wondering this for ages. Why do you always have a pot of whipped cream in the fridge?” Harry's spoon pauses on its way to his mouth, but Catherine doesn't notice and continues, “I mean, sometimes you have absolutely nothing else to eat, but you always have cream though I've never seen you eat it. In fact, I bet you just throw out the pot when it expires and buy a new one. What's the point?”

They all turn to look at him now, but he stares at his coffee. It's Harry's body language, more than anything else, that convinces Ruth that she's the reason he always has whipped cream in the house. Since that night on the yacht, whipped cream has always reminded her of Harry, so it stands to reason that it would be true for him too. But to be keeping his fridge stocked with it for more than three years, indicates that he never lost hope that he would see her again, and if that's the case, Harry is a very sentimental man and this is the most romantic gesture anyone's ever made for her. It finally sinks in that Harry is very deeply in love with her, and she feels all her doubts about his ability to stay faithful to her instantly vanish.

Harry realises that they're expecting an answer, so he clears his throat and murmurs, “It's for special occasions.”

“Like what? Christmas?” Catherine teases. “Most people buy things just before the occasion, Dad. They don't keep supplies all year round!”

“You never know when one might arise,” he replies and risks a glance at Ruth.

Her eyes are sparkling at him, and he can tell that she's trying to suppress a grin that is threatening to escape. He looks away hurriedly as he feels the heat rise to his cheeks.

“Like today,” Graham pipes up, distracting Catherine just in time before she notices his blush.

Ruth's eyes, however, don't miss a thing. He looks adorable, and pushing her napkin off her lap, she bends down to pick it up, and reaching under the table, squeezes his knee. Harry's eye snap to hers and she winks at him before turning back to follow the conversation.

“What's special about today?” Catherine asks.

“We're having _strawberries_ with _cream_ for _breakfast_ at _Dad's_ house,” Graham replies. “When's the last time you had anything so yummy here?”

“Fair point,” Catherine concedes with a smile.

“All the best desserts have whipped cream on them,” Ruth grins.

Harry's about to take a sip of coffee. He pauses with the mug on its way to his mouth and looks at her. There is a mischievous glint in her eyes and something else that he can't put his finger on. He's now certain that Ruth knows exactly why he has a pot of whipped cream in his fridge.

“And chocolate sprinkles,” Graham adds.

Ruth raises her eyebrows and says, “Chocolate sprinkles? That sounds good. What do you think, Harry?”

There is no mistaking the challenge in her eyes this time. His pride won't let him back down from a challenge, so schooling his face into a suitably neutral expression, he replies, “Chocolate sprinkles have potential.”

“And nuts,” Graham continues after a moment.

“Oh, my favourite dessert definitely has nuts,” Ruth replies with a smile.

The corners of Harry's mouth twitch and he takes a sip of his coffee to hide behind his mug.

“And a banana,” Ruth adds after a moment.

Harry spits out his coffee back into his mug and lowers it carefully to the table. Images of Ruth's tongue licking the whipped cream off him start to swim to the front of his mind and he struggles to push them away.

“You okay, Dad?” Catherine asks.

“Sorry, yes,” he murmurs, surprised that his voice is level. “Coffee's gone cold.”

Catherine eyes him suspiciously. She has a feeling she's missing something.

“What's your favourite dessert then?” Graham asks Ruth.

“Banana Split,” Catherine guesses.

“Mmmmm,” Ruth murmurs. “Ice cream is the best. Don't you love the way cold ice cream feels against your tongue?”

That last image is too much for Harry, and placing his elbows on the table, he puts his head in his hands. Oh, dear God! He can't even get up from the table now. He should have known better than to participate in this banter when he's deprived himself of sex for so long. Ruth glances at him and she can tell that she's finally got to him.

Catherine's really suspicious by now, but she can't work out what's going on. She frowns in concentration and says, “Dad?”

“Mmmm?” he murmurs.

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” he replies. “I think I have the beginning of a headache. I'll be fine.”

“What are we doing today?” Graham asks, completely oblivious to the undercurrents of emotion around him.

“I have to go to work after lunch,” Ruth says, drawing the children's attention away from their father. “When do you need to go home?”

“I don't know,” Catherine replies. “Mum said she'd call to let us know which train she's catching. Perhaps it would be a good idea to call her to find out.”

“Okay,” Ruth nods. “Why don't you go and do it now?”

Catherine gets up and begins to clear the dishes when Ruth stops her.

“Graham will help me do that,” she says. She's noticed that he doesn't help around the house nearly as much as his sister, which is quite understandable since she's three years older than him, but not acceptable in Ruth's book. He needs to start pulling his weight a bit more.

“Okay,” Graham says and begins carrying the dirty dishes to the sink. A few moments later, he darts from the room calling out that he has to use the bathroom.

Ruth leans over towards Harry, who still has his head in his hands, and murmurs, “Poor Love. Would you like me to kiss it better for you?”

He inhales sharply and makes a strangled noise in his throat. “You're a terrible tease, Miss Evershed,” he growls in an low, quivering voice.

Ruth smiles and murmurs, “I could always rub it better instead,” and reaching under the table, she runs her hand along the inside of his thigh toward the bulge in his trousers. This time Harry groans and grits his teeth, but all his efforts are in vein as her hand approaches its destination. His hands ball into fists, his head slips down between his arms towards his chest, and he moans her name as he ejaculates.

Ruth is somewhat surprised by this turn of events. She hadn't realised that he was so close to the edge. She continues to caress his thigh, however, and waits for his breathing to slow down. After a moment, he slowly lifts his head and looks at her, afraid of what he might see in her face. He's ashamed of his lack of control, but all he sees in her eyes is love. He looks away quickly and she murmurs, “I'm sorry. I didn't realise you were so close, or I would have stopped.” He still doesn't look at her so she whispers, “There's nothing to be ashamed of, Harry. I love you.”

His head snaps up and his eyes find hers. It's the first time she's said those words to him. He reaches for her and pulls her into his arms, kissing her tenderly, before releasing her quickly. Even though his kids really like Ruth, he knows that the day before they leave is not the best time to announce the change in his relationship with her.

“It's okay,” he murmurs. “It's just been so long.”

She smiles at him and asks, “How long?”

“Three years, one month, ten days and a few hours,” he replies seriously.

Her smile widens even further and she kisses his cheek. They hear a noise out in the hall and Ruth quickly gets up, and taking off her jumper, she hands it to Harry and says, “Please take this upstairs for me, Harry.”

Catherine enters the room and declares, “Mum said she'll be home at five. She said to call her if she needs to pick us up, otherwise she'll expect us at home by six.”

“All right, Catherine,” Harry replies getting up from the table slowly. “We'll set off from here at five.”

“Let's go to the park this morning,” Ruth suggests brightly. “We could take a picnic lunch and I could just walk to work from there.”

“Okay,” Catherine smiles.

“Good. That's settled then,” Ruth replies. “Now, where did your brother get to?”

“I'll find him,” Harry offers and exits the room with Ruth's jumper strategically held in front of him.

Ruth begins to run the water for the dishes and Catherine begins to make the sandwiches. Graham enters the kitchen quietly a few moments later, looking a little apprehensive.

“Sorry, Ruth,” Graham murmurs sheepishly as he approaches her. “I forgot.”

“Do you want to wash or dry?” Ruth smiles.

“I'll wash,” Graham replies, pleased that he got off so lightly.

 

* * *

 

They have a lovely time in Kensington Gardens. They walk around, admiring their beautiful surroundings, play a little football, and have their picnic on the grass while they listen to the brass band play for the last time this summer. Soon it's time for Ruth to leave for work.

“Bye, Ruth,” Graham says and gives her a hug.

“Bye, Graham,” she smiles and kisses the top of his head. “I hope to see you soon.”

“Me too,” he replies with a smile.

Ruth turns to Catherine and says goodbye to her too. Then much to her surprise, Catherine gives her a hug. “You take care now,” Ruth murmurs in her ear.

Catherine nods and replies, “You too and look out for Dad.”

“I'll do my best,” Ruth smiles and releases her. “See you later, Harry,” she says and turns to go to work.

“Bye,” he calls and watches her walk away. Then he turns to his children and says, “How about going to the cinema?”

“Yes!” Graham yells, jumping up in the air in joy, and Catherine agrees too, though in a slightly calmer manner.

They pick up their things and wonder out of the park towards the cinema. They each pick two films they would like to watch and discover that, thankfully, they all have one choice in common, Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom. The next showing turns out to be in an hour's time so they wonder to a small coffee shop where the children have ice cream, and Harry has a really good cup of coffee. Catherine suggests that they take turns telling jokes, and she starts them off with one she heard at school the other day. When it's Harry's turn, it takes him some time to come up with one that isn't dirty or wholly inappropriate in some other way. In the end, he remembers one that Malcolm told him some days ago.

“Three engineers and three accountants are travelling by train to a conference,” Harry says, “At the station, the three accountants each buy tickets and watch as the three engineers buy only a single ticket.

“'How are three people going to travel on only one ticket?' asks an accountant.

“'Watch and you’ll see,' answers an engineer.

“All of them board the train. The accountants take their respective seats, but all three engineers cram into the loo and close the door behind them. Shortly after the train has departed, the conductor comes around collecting tickets.

“He knocks on the bathroom door and says, 'Ticket, please.'

“The door opens just a crack, and a single arm emerges with a ticket in hand. The conductor takes it and moves on. The accountants see this and agreed it's a clever idea. So after the conference, the accountants decide to copy the engineers on the return trip and save some money. When they get to the station they buy a single ticket for the return trip. To their astonishment, the engineers don’t buy a ticket at all.

“'How are you going to travel without a ticket?' says one perplexed accountant.

“'Watch and you’ll see,' answers an engineer.

“When they board the train the three accountants cram into one loo, and the three engineers cram into another one nearby. The train departs. Shortly afterwards, one of the engineers leaves his bathroom and walks over to the loo where the accountants are hiding.

“He knocks on the door and says, 'Ticket, please.'”

Catherine and Graham burst out laughing and Harry smiles. He's having a really good time. They tell a few more jokes as they finish up their refreshments. Then they walk back to the cinema, and soon they're sitting in front of the screen with a small tub of popcorn each, and enjoying the film and the fact that it's the first ordinary day they've spent all together in years.

 

* * *

 

They arrive at Jane's house at quarter to six with all their things, which they've just picked up from Harry's place. They get out of the car, and picking up a few bags each from the boot, they walk up to the front door. Catherine rings the doorbell, and a few moments later, Jane opens the door. She smiles at the children happily and embraces each of them, welcoming them home and waving them into the house.

“Hello, Jane,” Harry says quietly. “Was your trip successful?”

“Yes, thank you,” she answers shortly and then adds. “Would you like to come in?”

“Thank you,” he replies, somewhat surprised by her invitation, and he steps into the house.

Jane closes the door and walks past him towards the kitchen. The children have already disappeared upstairs into their rooms. He puts down the bags he's holding and glances around. It's the first time he's been in the house, and he wonders why Jane's suddenly invited him in. Going back over events in his mind quickly, he comes to the conclusion that Catherine must have mentioned something to her when she called. Though his curiosity is piqued, he's still very cautious as he follows her into the kitchen.

“Tea or coffee?” she offers, again surprising him.

“Tea, please,” he replies.

“Do you still have milk and one sugar?” she asks.

“Yes,” he answers.

He watches her from the doorway as she busies about making the tea. She's still a very beautiful woman, tall and slim, graceful and elegant. Her hair is still a deep auburn colour and her eyes a lovely green that complements her hair to perfection. In short, she's still stunning.

“Take your coat off, come in, and sit down,” she says. “I don't bite.”

He smiles, and removing his coat, he goes out to hang it up in the hall before coming back in and sitting at the table. She places a plate of biscuits on the table and then their mugs before sitting down across from him.

“Thank you,” Harry murmurs and takes a sip of his tea.

“Catherine tells me that you've been busy with the kids,” she says.

“Yes,” he replies. “Thankfully, we only had one Red Flash this week. It's been hard on them getting to and from school though. Catherine's been great about taking the bus when I couldn't pick them up.”

“She said one of your colleagues is staying at your house,” Jane says quietly, but her voice has a hard edge to it.

“Yes,” he replies evenly, “Ruth. She started work last week and had nowhere to stay. She's been very good with them. And before you ask, no I'm not sleeping with her.” Yet, he adds privately.

“Thankfully, that's none of my business any more,” she says flatly, “but it is my business when you have a woman in the house that the children have obviously become attached to and then she leaves, leaving me to pick up the pieces. It's not good for them.”

“They know that she's just a colleague, Jane,” Harry counters, getting a little annoyed by this conversation now, “and since she likes them very much, I'm sure they will see her again when they visit me next time. I'll invite her over to see them. I'm sure that they'll see her more often than they see your parents or my father.”

Jane glares at him but drops the subject. They sip their tea in silence and Harry feels his irritation dissipate. Jane is obviously trying to make an effort here to be civil, and he supposes that, since she's always been a single parent to all intents and purposes, she's just trying to protect the children. Sighing he says, “I'm sorry, Jane. You have every right to be concerned for them. However, they turned up very suddenly and I could hardly throw Ruth out when I'd already offered her the use of my guest room. She's calm, steady, and warm with them, and I know you have nothing to worry about.”

She nods and her face relaxes a little.

“This is a nice house,” Harry remarks trying to change the subject. She raises her eyebrows at his attempt to make small talk and his face breaks into a grin. “I don't know where that came from,” he admits. He studies her quietly for a moment and then says, “You look good, Jane. Are you happy?”

She seems taken aback by his comment and frowns at him.

“There's no need to look so suspicious,” he says in a somewhat hurt tone. “I'm not a monster. Believe it or not, I would like you to be happy. God knows, you deserve it.”

Her gaze softens slightly and she replies, “I'm fine, Harry. Thank you. You look good too.”

He nods taking another sip of tea.

“Who is she?” she asks and then adds quickly, “I'm sorry. I don't mean to pry. I can just tell that you have someone.” She looks away towards the window and adds in a whisper, “I always could.”

Harry sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. Here we go again, he thinks, but then he remembers Ruth's words and decides that he might as well try one more time. At least Jane appears to be less hostile right now.

“I know I've hurt you, Jane,” he begins quietly, “and I will always regret that.” She scoffs and opens her mouth to interrupt, but he holds his hand up and says, “Please, let me finish.”

She stops and looks at him, waiting for him to continue.

“I messed everything up between us,” he says after a moment. “Not telling you about my work at Five until after we were married, not responding to your requests for me to be home more, working harder than ever when you needed help at home with the children, not appreciating you as much as you deserved, and cheating on you. I know all that and I _am_ truly, very sorry. I don't know what else to say or do to make things better between us, not to ease my guilt, though that might be nice, but to make you happier.” He pauses and then adds, “Don't you think it would be nice to be able to finally just let it go? You and I use to be good friends before all this. I miss that.”

She studies him for a moment and then says, “The trouble with you, Harry, is that I can never tell when you're being sincere.”

He thinks carefully and then replies, “What could I possibly gain from lying right now?” She shrugs and he adds, “In the end, Jane, it's your choice. You can either believe me to be sincere, or you can choose not to. I know what I would prefer.”

She looks away thoughtfully and after a while says, “I appreciate your apology. I know that I didn't handle things between us well either, and that I share some of the blame for our failed marriage. We _were_ good friends once. We probably should have just stayed friends.” She pauses, and looking back at him, continues, “This is nice. Being able to talk without blaming each other all the time. You're less reactive and more patient and understanding today. I can see why Catherine enjoyed her stay with you.” She studies him quietly for a few moments, and then adds, “She's a good influence on you.”

He raises his eyebrows, and she shakes her head and smiles for the first time since he sat down at her table.

“I may not be able to tell when you're being sincere in your apologies, but you can't fool me when it comes to women, Harry,” she says. “If you're not sleeping with her, then you want to, this Ruth of yours.” He opens his mouth to argue but she stops him by saying, “It's none of my business. Forget I said anything.”

He closes his mouth with an exasperated sound and it elicits another smile from her. It really lights up her face, making her look younger and very beautiful.

“You're still one of the most beautiful women I know, Jane,” he smiles.

“And you, Harry,” she replies, “are still a charmer.”

They look at each other for a moment and then Harry says, “I'd better get going. Thanks for the tea and the chat, Jane. It's nice to have a truce.”

“Yes,” she replies, “it is.”

He gets up and carries his cup and Jane's to the sink where he rinses them out.

“Still as neat as ever,” she jokes and he chuckles.

They make their way to the front door, and Harry calls up to his children that he's leaving. They come thundering downstairs in a moment, and he hugs and kisses each of them, promising to have them over to stay again soon. Jane watches the exchange with interest and pleasure, though at the back of her mind she worries that it's just a temporary reprieve from the regular indifference that Harry shows towards them all. She's suddenly very curious to meet Ruth and see the person she believes is responsible for this transformation in her ex.

Harry leaves the house, and entering his car, drives home happy in the knowledge that he has a date for tonight, and that now the house is empty, he might even get lucky too.


	13. Chapter 13

_Saturday, August 25_ _th_ _, 1984_

_140 Gower Street_

 

“Sir,” Ruth says as she knocks on her boss's door and walks into his office, “you have to see this.”

He looks up and frowns at her, motioning her to come forward and taking the paper she's holding out to him. He glances over it quickly and looks up at Ruth.

“How sure are we of this intel?” he asks.

“Positive,” she answers. “Malcolm and I double checked it.”

“Red Flash the entire team,” Reynolds says and rubs his chin thoughtfully. He doesn't like this. He doesn't like this one bit.

 

* * *

 

Harry's pager starts to beep. He picks it up and looks at the screen. He swears and grits his teeth in resignation as he goes all the way round the roundabout he's on and back in the direction he just came from. Bloody terrorists. Why can't they just take a break and do something constructive for a change?

As soon as he's off the roundabout and on the road again, he sends a reply, “On my way. 20 mins.”

Of all the bloody days they could have picked, he fumes.

 

* * *

 

Harry walks into the Grid, and seeing that everyone's in the briefing room, he makes his way there.

“Harry!” Jack Reynolds exclaims. “Perhaps you can shed some light on this.”

Harry takes a seat and turns to Malcolm who's conducting the briefing.

“We received a message from GCHQ about an intercept on a phone call to a known supplier of materials that we believe are being used to manufacture bombs. The caller uses the name Jerry O'Neil and speaks with an Irish accent. We've run the name through our systems and have come up blank. However, Ruth remembered another GCHQ intercept that we got a couple of days ago, which mentions the name _Patrick_ O'Neil and a pub in London. If these two are connected, then- ”

There is a knock on the door and a young man pops his head round the door and says, “Sorry, Sir, but there's a phone call on line one. Says that he's got a bomb and will set it off in a pub if he doesn't talk to the man in charge.”

Reynolds nods at the lad and he disappears back out the door. Malcolm rushes to the computer in the corner and sets it up to trace the call.

He nods at Reynolds who presses the speaker button and says, “This is the Head of Operations. With whom am I speaking?”

“Jerry O'Neil. I want to speak to Harry Pearce.”

There is a stunned silence for a moment and then Reynolds says, “Harry Pearce?”

“Look, I know he works for you, and if you don't get him on the line right now, I'll detonate the bomb I have planted in the pub,” he growls.

“All right,” Reynolds replies. “I will send someone to fetch him. What do you want? Why are you doing this?”

“He killed my big brother,” the man responds. “I'll call back in a ten minutes and he'd better be there.”

“Wait,” Reynolds says, not wanting to lose the trace on the call. “He's just coming.”

“Hello,” Harry takes over seamlessly. “Who is this?”

“Jerry O'Neil,” Jerry replies.

“Have we met?” Harry asks glancing at Malcolm, who shakes his head and puts up two fingers and his fist to indicate he still needs twenty seconds.

“No,” he responds. “You killed my brother, Patrick, in Belfast.”

Harry nods to show the team that he knows what this is about now and replies, “Patrick O'Neil. I remember Patrick. What do you want with me?”

“I want you to meet me in the pub, The Queen's Head, in one hour,” he answers.

“And why would I do that?” Harry asks.

“Because if you're not here in one hour, I'll blow the place up along with all the people in it,” he growls.

“And what's to stop you doing that anyway when I turn up?” Harry continues.

“I give you my word,” Jerry answers, “that I'll let the building be evacuated when you enter it.”

“Sorry, Jerry, but I can't trust the word of a man who's prepared to kill innocent bystanders for personal revenge,” Harry says. “I will meet you under these conditions only: You will allow one of my colleagues and two police officers to enter the building and evacuate it. Then the police officers will leave and my colleague will wait for my arrival. When I enter the building, he will also be allowed to leave. Do we have a deal?”

There is silence for a moment and then Jerry says, “Yes.”

“You go back on our agreement or attempt to double-cross me, Jerry,” Harry replies in a menacing voice, “and we will make sure that your entire family pays for it. You have two brothers and a sister if I recall correctly. If my colleague is harmed in any way, or you break our agreement in any way, your siblings will pay. Remember that. We look after our own.”

“One hour,” Jerry replies and puts the phone down.

There is silence for a moment and then Malcolm says, “He's near The Queen's Head.”

“I think you'd better explain, Harry,” Reynolds adds.

Harry runs his hands over his face and then looks up at his boss before saying, “As you know, I was stationed in Northern Ireland in '75. Jim Erickson and I were having a drink in a pub called The Queen's Head in Belfast.” He sees Jack raise his eyebrows and nods. “I know; it's not a coincidence. Anyway, the pub in Belfast was a well known loyalist pub and was well protected. Somehow, the IRA managed to infiltrate the staff there. Jim and I noticed two of the bar hands frequently glancing at their watches and we became suspicious. Then they disappeared in the back and didn't return for several minutes, so I got up to investigate. When I got there, the room was empty, but it had a back door so I surmised that they'd left through that. I went back to Jim and we agreed that we should evacuate the pub as a precaution. He cleared the main room, while I went to check the loos. That's where I saw Patrick O'Neil.”

“ _The_ Patrick O'Neil?” Malcolm interrupts in surprise. Harry nods and Malcolm whistles and then, seeing everyone's curious glances, adds, “Patrick O'Neil was probably the best bomb maker the IRA ever had. He was responsible for at least ten bombings in and around Belfast. He was talented, extremely talented. Each one of his bombs was unique in its design which made diffusing them almost impossible.”

There is silence for a moment and then Harry continues, “Anyway, I went for him, and after a brief struggle, I managed to knock him out. I checked the men's room and found the bomb, which had just under a minute left on the timer. I ran to check the ladies' and then back into the pub, where I shouted to Jim to get out. Then I left through the back door. The building collapsed in the explosion and seven people were killed, including Jim, who was trying to get the others out. O'Neil was one of the victims.”

Ruth's breath catches in her throat as she sees the anguish in Harry's eyes when he mentions his dead colleague.

“So we can assume that Jerry,” Reynolds remarks, “is after revenge for his dead brother.”

Harry nods and there is silence for a moment.

“All right,” Reynolds says as he gets up, “Malcolm, I want you to wire Jason and Harry. Lucas and Sarah you will be in the van outside the pub. Ruth, get Special Forces to the location and tell them to evacuate all the surrounding buildings. Then have them wait for further instructions, and also get the bomb squad and the police. Sophie, you go through the CCTV footage of the area and see if you can find him. I want to know if he has any accomplices. Ruth, also get the police to check out all the vehicles around the pub for any suspicious individuals. We have to assume that he's not working alone. Perhaps some of his siblings are in on it. Find out what you can about them. We follow Harry's plan as he outlined it to Jerry. When everyone else is out, we take him out.”

Everyone scurries from the room and into action. They don't have a lot of time. Ruth makes the necessary phone calls to get the police and special forces involved. She also makes sure that the fire service and an ambulance are on stand by. When she's finished, she gets up to make tea. She needs to keep herself busy, or else her anxiety over Harry's safety will overwhelm her. Why, oh why, did it have to be Harry?

 

* * *

 

“Good luck, Jason,” Ruth smiles and gives him a hug. “Be careful.”

“I will,” he replies and exits through the pods.

“Come back to me,” Ruth whispers to Harry as he walks past her.

He takes her hand in his and squeezes it tight. Then he nods and gives her a lingering look and a small smile before he turns and leaves through the pods.

Malcolm sees the worried look in Ruth's eyes as she watches him leave and moves close to her. Then putting his hand on her arm, he says, “He'll be fine. He's escaped worse situations than this.”

She gives him a grateful look and turns back towards the technical suite, where they'll be monitoring the audio feed from the operation.

 

* * *

 

The sun's setting as they arrive at the pub. Jason takes two police officers inside and stands at the door scanning the room. The pub has a double door entrance in the shape of an S to keep out the cold. Inside there are two rooms, which are connected by a wide doorway. The bar is in the first room and they make their way past it towards the back. Here they spot a young man sitting alone at a table near the corner. He raises his hand and Jason can make out that he's holding something. He approaches cautiously and identifies it as a dead man's switch.

“I can see O'Neil,” he whispers. “He's got a dead man's switch. The bomb must be close. Approaching now.”

“You must be O'Neil,” he says as he stops in front of the man. “I'm Roger Jameson. We'll be conducting the evacuation.”

“You stay near me and the others can begin,” O'Neil says.

Jason nods to the police officers and one of them raises his voice above the level of the noise around them saying, “Ladies and Gentlemen, may I have your attention please? There is a security situation and I need you to all please leave the premises in an orderly fashion.”

There is a murmur of disapproval from the crowd, but the officer is calm, collected, and inspires confidence, so they drain their drinks, pick up their things and slowly make their way out. The owner of the pub walks up to him, wishing to know more details, but the officer directs him to ask questions outside, so he returns to the bar, and after taking out the money from the till and picking up a couple of other things, he exits with everyone else. The police officers check all the rooms in the building and report back to Jason that they've completed their task. Then they leave.

“Now, we'll just wait for Harry then,” Jason says pleasantly. “So what's this about then?”

“I know that he's already told you what happened,” he replies. “I'm not stupid.”

“Well, you could have fooled me,” Jason laughs. “What do you call this then? Smart? It's the stupidest thing I've ever heard of.”

“Watch it!” Jerry yells, “or I'll let go of this little button and boom!”

“No,” Jason smiles. “You won't because you want Harry, not me.” Jerry glares at him and Jason continues, “So tell me who else is in on this?”

“No one,” he replies quickly.

“I see,” Jason says. “Who is it? Your brother?” He sees a flicker of surprise cross Jerry's face and he knows he's right. “Is he here too?” he asks.

“No, I'm alone,” Jerry replies proudly, convincing Jason that he's telling the truth.

“Where's the bomb?” Jason continues with his barrage of questions.

“Near here,” he grins. “Now, where's Harry Pearce? I'm losing my patience.”

“I'm right here, Jerry,” Harry replies from the doorway.

“Good,” Jerry grins. “Roger, get out of here.”

“All right,” Jason replies and moves towards the door.

He holds Harry's gaze for a moment, but then leaves the room. Harry walks over to the bar, and stepping behind it, pours himself a drink.

“Want one?” he asks casually. Jerry shakes his head and Harry continues, “You know, Jerry. I have to agree with my colleague that this is a remarkably stupid plan. I mean, how are you going to get out of the building before the bomb goes off?”

“I'm not,” Jerry replies.

“Oh, so this is a suicide mission!” Harry says in an incredulous voice. “You think that your big brother would be proud of that? Of you? I think he'd laugh. Patrick fought in a war, Jerry. He killed a lot of people. You're just going to kill yourself and one other. I think he'd be disappointed, Jerry.”

“He would not!” Jerry yells. “He would be proud of me for taking revenge for his death.”

“Revenge?” Harry shouts back. “Is that what you think this is? You think I killed him? I didn't kill him. I knocked him out and he was killed by his own bomb. Just like you will be in a few minutes. And what about all the other people in that pub who died? Should their families also seek revenge? If they did, how would that pan out for your family, Jerry? Your brothers and sister and their children? How would they feel?” Harry can tell that he's getting to him, so lowering his voice he says, “I lost a good friend in that bomb. He had a wife and a six year old son. You're not the only one who's hurting as a result of this, Jerry. Many people are, but a line has to be drawn somewhere. You're only twenty-two years old! If you want to die so badly, at least die for something worthwhile.”

There is silence and after a moment Harry asks, “Where's the bomb, Jerry?”

Slowly the young man unzips his jacket and Harry sees the suicide vest he's wearing.

“A suicide vest?” Harry murmurs, and then noticing a display, he adds in surprise, “Is it on a _timer_?”

Jerry nods, and looking down at the timer, says in a voice of barely controlled fear, “Two and a half minutes to go, Harry.”

“Diffuse it,” Harry orders, and walking over to him, he places a wire cutter on the table.

“I can't,” Jerry replies and there is real panic in his eyes. “I didn't make it. My brother, Daniel, made it.”

“And he didn't tell you how to diffuse it?” Harry asks in surprise.

The boy shakes his head and Harry kneels down in front of him to have a look at the wiring. With just over two minutes left, he can't even have the bomb squad come in.

“It's okay,” he murmurs. “We'll figure it out.”

He studies the wires intently and hears Jack's voice in his ear saying, “When that timer says thirty seconds, Harry. You get out. That's an order.”

“Okay,” Harry murmurs.

“I'm going back in,” Jason declares, and ignoring Reynolds' fierce orders to stand down, he re-enters the pub.

“Can you stop it?” Jerry asks fearfully.

Jason enters the room and walks over to Harry and Jerry.

“We're going to have to try to remove it from you,” Harry says eventually, when there is just over a minute and a half left.

“What can I do?” Jason asks.

“I have an idea,” Harry replies, and rushing back to the bar, he quickly grabs the tape and scissors he happened to see behind it. He hands them to Jason and says, “Cut strips of the tape.”

Jason immediately sets to work while Harry turns his attention back to the vest. The buckles have wires running across them to trigger the bomb if Jerry attempts to remove the vest. However, they're not tight and so, working quickly, Harry pulls both buckles free carefully and tapes the buckle pieces together again so that there is more room for Jerry to manoeuvre out of the vest. Then he tapes over the dead man switch so that Jerry can release it.

“I need you to wiggle out of the vest as I lift it,” he instructs, and grabbing the vest gingerly, he begins to pull up as Jerry raises his arms and works his way down and out of it. Luckily, he's a slim lad, and with Jason's helps, he begins to slide out. Even so, it's a difficult task and it takes them a good half minute.

“You need to get out _now!_ ” Jack barks into their ears.

“Almost there,” Harry says, and a few seconds later, Jerry's free of the vest. Harry puts it on the table, glancing at the display which now reads eleven seconds and yells, “Get out now!”

They all sprint towards the door, Jason and Jerry in front and Harry right behind them. When the bomb goes off, Jason has just stepped outside the pub, Jerry's in the corridor between the two outer doors and Harry's just stepping through the inner of the two doors. The force of the explosion knocks Jason forward onto the ground. Jerry's knocked off his feet and lands on his hands and knees on the floor, banging his head against the wall. Harry's thrown against the outer wall of the pub. He feels a terrible pain in his head for a moment and then everything goes black.

“Harry? Jason?” Jack yells. “Get the fire service and paramedics there right now,” he barks at Malcolm.

“On their way already, Sir,” Malcolm murmurs.

He glances at Ruth. She looks white as a sheet and he can see her struggling to maintain her composure. Sophie's in tears and runs from the room.

“Jason, Harry,” Reynolds keeps repeating.

“I'm okay,” Jason murmurs after a moment, getting up gingerly onto his hands and knees and attempting to stand.

Lucas rushes up to him and helps him up. “You okay?” he asks.

Jason nods and Lucas leaves him and rushes over to the building.

“You can't go in there, Sir,” one of the police officers calls and moves to intercept him.

“My boss is in there,” Lucas replies, and dodging past the officer, enters the building.

There is a lot of dust in the air, and Lucas has to wave his hands in front of his face in an attempt to clear it away as he gingerly peers in the door. He spots Jerry in the ground, but it looks like he's trapped by part of the wall that has fallen in.

“Jerry,” he calls but gets no response. He gingerly moves closer and presses his fingers to the man's neck. He feels a pulse. “Harry,” he calls, but again there is no answer. “Fuck,” he murmurs.

Lucas moves back out of the building and heads back to Jason, who's sitting on the edge of a step in front of the opposite building, next to Sarah.

“Anything?” Sarah asks.

Lucas shakes his head sadly and says, “I can see Jerry. He's alive, but the wall has fallen in and I can't get him out. We need the firemen to get here. I can't even see Harry.”

“Shit,” Jason murmurs. “We were so close. Can you believe those bastards? They sent their younger brother on a suicide mission. If Harry's...” He stops and shakes his head.

The fire engines and ambulances arrive just then and the paramedics are led over to Jason by one of the police officers. He lets them check him out and dress the cut he has over his right eye and the scrapes on the heels of his hands. If he lets them do it now, he won't have to go into hospital later. In the mean time, Lucas has gone off to talk to the fire chief.

Back at MI-5 headquarters, everyone has heard Sarah, Lucas and Jason's conversation. At Jason's last words, Ruth leans forward and puts her head in her hands as silent tears run down her face. She can hardly believe that this is happening. It all seems so surreal. Only last night she was dancing in Harry's arms. This morning she'd told him she loves him and now... now... He can't be gone. He just can't.

She gets up and rushes from the room, grabbing her pager as she goes and exiting the building. She walks fast, not knowing or caring in which direction. Tears cloud her vision and she feels like she's about to burst from the pain. She brakes into a run. She runs and runs until she can't take another step. Then she stops and leans against a low wall, panting and fighting to get her breath back. Her lungs and leg muscles ache, but she enjoys the temporary distraction this provides from the deeper pain in her heart and soul. As her breathing calms, she puts her elbows on the wall and buries her face in her arms. She doesn't know how long she stays like this, but she slowly becomes aware of her pager beeping, and reaching into her pocket, she pulls it out and looks at the screen.

The message is from Malcolm and reads, “He's alive. Just brought him out. Know more later at hospital. Thought you'd want to know.”

“Thank you, Malcolm,” she whispers and types in a reply.

“Where are you?” he asks.

She realises she has no idea and looks around her for the first time. It's dark.

“By Thames. Can see Tower Bridge,” she types and sends the message.

“Meet you there in 30 mins and drive to hospital,” he replies.

“OK,” she confirms.

Ruth stares at the pager for a moment, and then sliding it into her pocket, she turns and slowly makes her way to the bridge. Let him be okay, let him be okay, she repeats like a mantra inside her head with every step she takes.


	14. Chapter 14

_Saturday, August 25_ _th_ _, 1984_

_London_

 

“Ruth,” Malcolm calls through the open window as he spots her on the bridge, leaning over the railing.

She turns around, and seeing him, moves over to his car and gets in the passenger seat.

“I brought your handbag and coat,” he says, indicating the bag on the floor.

“Thanks,” she murmurs, picking up her coat and slipping it on. She was starting to feel cold out there on the bridge.

Malcolm drives to the next red traffic light, and then turns to her and says, “I was thinking. Would you like to go somewhere else? He's in emergency surgery right now, and they won't let us see him even when he gets out. Neither of us are next of kin, and we'll have to wait until the morning for Jack to throw his weight around a bit.” He notices her worried expression and adds swiftly, “If you want to go, I'll take you. I just thought that getting a bite to eat might be more constructive than sitting in a hospital waiting room, worrying. Jack said that he'd let me know as soon as he hears anything.”

The light changes and he drives on while Ruth thinks over his proposal. A bite to eat... She was supposed to have dinner with Harry today and instead... Tears spring to her eyes and she tries to blink them away. Perhaps it _would_ be better to not be in the hospital with nothing to distract her. “Okay,” she murmurs eventually.

“Is there any place you'd like to go?” he asks. Ruth shakes her head and he nods, “How about fish and chips?”

“Okay,” she replies, not really caring where they go.

Malcolm nods and drives off towards a nice fish and chip shop he knows.

 

* * *

 

She feels much better now that she's had something to eat. She didn't want to of course, but Malcolm managed to cajole her into trying the food. She'd given in to him in the end because he was trying so hard to cheer her up and stay positive.

“I'm sorry, Malcolm,” she smiles sadly. “I'm not very good company right now and you're trying so hard.”

“Don't be stupid,” Malcolm frowns. “Trying to cheer you up is helping me no end in pushing aside my own worries about Harry. But you know, he does seem to have the luck of the devil. I think he'll pull through. He always does. I expect he'll outlast Jack himself and live to take over the position when he moves on or retires.”

Ruth smiles at his words and is surprised at how much better they make her feel. The fish and chip shop was a good idea. It's small, busy, and full of life as people come and go, having a bite to eat, or picking up their takeaway. It would have been awful to sit in a classy restaurant where everything's calm and quiet.

“You're a good friend, Malcolm,” she says. “I don't know how to thank you.”

“Just don't give up hope,” he replies.

She nods and murmurs, “You know, don't you? About us.”

“I know about Harry's feelings, but I didn't know there was an 'us',” he says with a blush.

She looks away as tears spring to her eyes and replies in a shaky voice, “There is since last night.”

“I'm glad,” Malcolm smiles and reaches across the table to squeeze her hand. “He'll need your help when he gets out.”

She nods and they finish their meal and return to the car.

“Do you have someone you could stay with?” he asks quietly. “I can offer you the sofa bed at my place, but it's not very comfy. I don't want to leave you alone in an impersonal hotel tonight.”

“I'll be fine, Malcolm,” she replies. “I'm actually staying in Harry's guest room.” Malcolm raises his eyebrows at her in surprise and she elaborates, “When Harry drove me home that first night after going to the George, we discovered that the hotel I was staying at wasn't as safe as it appeared to be in the day time. It was late so he just drove me to his house. The next day, his kids arrived to stay for the week, and what with that and the long working hours, I just stayed.”

“Well,” Malcolm says, “I still think it would be best if you're not on your own.”

“I'd like to stay at Harry's,” Ruth murmurs. “It would make me feel closer to him.”

Malcolm studies her for a moment and then says, “Well, if you're sure.”

She nods so he starts the engine and drives her home. When they reach Harry's house, Malcolm gets out and walks her to the door.

“Thank you, Malcolm,” she says.

“I'll ring you the moment I hear from Jack,” he replies.

“Yes,” she nods. “Please do. It doesn't matter what time it is. I'd like to know right away.”

“I promise to ring you the moment I hear anything,” he smiles. “Goodnight, Ruth, and don't hesitate to phone me if you need anything.”

“Goodnight, Malcolm,” she replies, leans forward, and kisses his cheek.

He blushes, and giving her a lopsided smile, he turns and walks back to his car. Ruth watches him go for a moment before closing the door and locking it. After taking her coat and shoes off, she goes straight upstairs to get ready for bed. She knows that if she lingers in the downstairs rooms, she won't be able to hold back her tears as the memories overwhelm her.

 

* * *

 

She snuggles down in her bed, but she can't settle. She tosses and turns for a while, but she misses him so much and can't stop worrying about him. She sits up in bed and swings her feet out, slipping them into her slippers. Picking up her pager from her bedside table, she walks through her door and along the corridor, pausing in front of his room. She stands there unsure of whether going in would be a gross violation of his privacy. Eventually she decides that, if their roles were reversed and she was lying in a hospital bed instead, she wouldn't mind if he entered her room to seek comfort, so she turns the handle and pushes the door open. She steps into the doorway and flips on the light. His room is neat and orderly as is every other part of his house. The walls are a warm cream colour and the furniture is simple and made of solid oak, but despite its dark colour and solid appearance, it's not imposing but light and elegant looking. Against one wall, there's a large wardrobe with a chest of drawers next to it. His bed is large, queen size, and has no foot-board, though it has a solid head-board. The bedside tables are small, and on each one there's a lamp with an old fashioned lamp shade with tassels dangling from the edges. In the corner of the room, by the window, is a rocking chair with a floor lamp beside it and a foot stool in front of it. She walks up to his bed and runs her hand over the bed covers. Which side does he sleep on, she wonders. The box of tissues and telephone on the left bedside table suggests that he sleeps on that side.

“Oh, Harry,” she murmurs. “Please be okay. Just, please be okay.”

She feels the tears come, and this time, she doesn't have the energy to fight them, so she lets them fall, and as the sobs wrack her body, she lies down on his bed and curls herself up into a ball. When her tears finally stop, she continues to lie there quietly, too exhausted to move. She shivers from the cold, and forcing herself to get up, she puts her pager on the bedside table, pushes back the covers and gets into Harry's bed. His scent lingers on his pillow, and as she rests her head on it, it envelops her, comforting her, and allowing her to finally fall asleep.

 


	15. Chapter 15

_Sunday, August 26 th, 1984_

_Harry's House_

 

Ruth is woken by the phone ringing. She opens her eyes and looks around, momentarily disoriented by her unfamiliar surroundings. Then everything comes rushing back to her, and she quickly reaches for the phone, knocking the receiver off the hook in her haste. She swears and leans over the side of the bed to pick it up off the floor.

“Hello?” she says into it breathlessly once she's retrieved it.

“Hello, it's me, Malcolm,” Malcolm's voice greets her.

“Hi. What news?” Ruth asks quickly.

“He's fine,” Malcolm smiles. “Broken right shin bone, dislocated left shoulder and broken collar bone, a neck injury and head trauma. The only thing the doctors think might cause problems is the head injury. They're worried because he was unconscious for so long. They'll conduct more tests when he wakes up this morning.”

“You call that _fine_!” Ruth exclaims, but all the same she feels relief wash over her.

“Well,” Malcolm chuckles, “it could have been much worse.”

Ruth glances at the clock and sees that it's five in the morning. “Yes, it could,” she replies. “Thank you for ringing me, Malcolm.”

“It's my pleasure,” he replies. “Sorry it was so early, but you did make me promise to call you straight away.”

“Yes,” she smiles, “I did. I'll see you in a few hours.”

“Bye, Ruth,” he says and hangs up.

Ruth puts the phone down and lies back in Harry's bed. The relief she felt a moment ago is slowly replaced by anxiety over his condition. With a broken leg and dislocated shoulder, he'll probably have a lot of difficulty getting about for a while, but more worrying still is the head injury. She knows that they can be very dangerous. He could have impaired speech, memory loss, trouble moving, thinking, and sleeping... As panic threatens to overwhelm her, she sits up in bed suddenly and gets up, pushing her worries aside roughly and going to the bathroom to take a shower. Worrying about it isn't going to solve anything, she tells herself. She had much better go to work early and get something useful done.

 

* * *

 

Harry wakes up with the mother of all headaches. He opens his eyes, but the light coming in from the window makes his eyes water and his head throb, so he has to close them again quickly. He groans from the pain. Where on earth is he and what the hell happened?

“Hello,” says a soft voice by his side. “How are you feeling?”

He opens his eyes, but again he's forced to close them immediately. He glimpses someone dressed in white. He listens. He must be in hospital. “My head hurts,” he croaks, “What happened?”

“You don't remember?” she asks.

“No,” he replies.

“Not to worry,” she says in a soothing voice. “It's quite normal to not remember a few things after a head trauma.”

“Mmmm,” he murmurs. If only this pounding headache would stop, he might be able to think straight.

“Would you like some water?” she asks.

He tries to nod and realises that, firstly, it's a bad idea as his head feels like it's about to explode, and secondly, he can't. It's then that he comprehends that his head is not the only part of him that's injured. Gingerly, he tries to move his limbs. His right arm moves freely, but when he tries to move his left arm he feels a stabbing pain in his shoulder, and he sucks in a breath sharply though his teeth. Perhaps this was a bad idea. Then again, he knows enough about head trauma to realise that it might have serious consequences. Paralysis, for example. He now recognises that he's wearing a neck brace and he panics, momentarily afraid that his spinal chord is injured. He tries to wiggle his fingers and succeeds easily. Next he tries his toes. They move too. Relief washes over him.

“Here you go,” the nurse says and helps him take a sip of water.

“Thank you,” he whispers as he lies back down on the bed.

“I'll let the doctor know you're awake,” she says, and he hears her walk away and the door open and close behind her.

A few minutes later, the doctor enters the room. “Hello,” she says. “I'm Doctor Peters. How are you feeling?”

He tries to open his eyes again, but he has to abandon the attempt as the pain in his head is too much. “Head hurts like the dickens,” he murmurs.

“It probably will for a couple of days, thought it should subside enough to open your eyes by this afternoon,” she replies sympathetically. “I'm afraid I daren't give you any more pain killers right now. You were unconscious for a little while after your injury, and I need to assess your cognitive abilities to make sure that nothing has been severely impaired. You appear to be talking normally, so that's encouraging. Can you please tell me your name?”

“That depends,” he answers. “Have you signed the official secrets act?” The doctor laughs and assures him that she has. “In that case, my name is Harry Pearce,” he replies.

“Good,” she smiles. “Do you remember the incident that caused your present injuries?”

“No,” he answers.

“That's fine,” she reassures him. “Many people don't. Tell me what the last thing you remember is.”

Harry frowns trying hard to recollect. The pain in his head is making it difficult to concentrate. “I remember going to bed last night,” he says eventually.

“What did you do before going to bed?” she asks.

“I... um,” he hesitates. I thought about Ruth of course, he thinks, but he doesn't say that. “I ate something,” he says, “Chinese, I think.”

“What about work? What was the last thing you did at work?” she queries.

“That's classified,” he answers. “Why are you asking me all these questions, Doctor?”

“I need to establish if you have any Retrograde Amnesia,” she replies. “In cases of head trauma, we often find that patients lose some of their memory from before the incident. In a lot of cases, the loss isn't permanent. The memories often return in a few days.”

“What else is wrong with me?” he asks quietly as he digests this information.

“You have a dislocated left shoulder, a fractured left clavicle and a fractured right tibia. You strained the ligaments and muscles in your neck, and of course, there is the head trauma,” she answers.

“That's just great,” he mumbles. “Sounds like I was in a bomb blast.”

Her eyebrows shoot up and she exclaims, “You remember?!”

“No,” he chuckles and immediately regrets it as his head threatens to explode. “I just thought that it was a more likely explanation that my second guess, which was being in the path of an enraged elephant.”

She laughs and replies, “I can see that your sense of humour hasn't been affected. That's good. You're going to need that. I'll leave you to rest now. I'll probably need to ask you some more questions a little later on.”

“Okay,” he murmurs. “I'm not going anywhere.”

She leaves the room, and he tries to remember the explosion he was in. The strange thing is that the latest case they'd been working on hadn't involved any bombs. So how the hell had he got himself in the middle of an explosion? His head hurts too much to think for long, and slowly, he drifts into an uneasy sleep.

 


	16. Chapter 16

_Sunday, August 26 th, 1984_

_140 Gower Street_

 

“Malcolm,” Jack Reynolds calls, “my office, please.”

Malcolm looks up at the boss, and after nodding his head, he turns and gives an apologetic look to Ruth before he walks towards Reynolds' office. Once inside, he stops in front of his desk.

“I need you to go and see Harry,” Jack says. “His doctor suspects that he might have Retrograde Amnesia and she needs our help to establish its length.”

“Okay,” Malcolm replies. “I'll go right away. May I take Ruth with me?”

“Ruth?” Jack asks, surprised.

“This was her first difficult operation with the team and I think it was a little too much for her,” he replies. “I though that seeing Harry might help her feel a little better.”

“Yes, yes,” Jack nods. “I see what you mean. Fine. Take her with you, but don't be long.”

“Yes, Sir,” Malcolm agrees and leaves the room to get Ruth.

 

* * *

 

Ruth and Malcolm arrive at the hospital and are taken to Dr. Peters' office.

“Hello,” she smiles. “I'm Doctor Peters.”

“Malcolm Wynn-Jones,” Malcolm replies, shaking her hand and turning to Ruth, he says, “This is my colleague, Ruth Evershed.”

They shake hands and take the seats that the doctor offers them.

“Harry could be suffering from Retrograde Amnesia, and if this is the case, I need to establish how long a period he doesn't remember. I cannot do that without knowledge of his work, and since his work is of a sensitive nature, I need your help to do so. I would like you to find out for me what is the last work related memory he has, so that you can tell me how long ago it was,” she explains.

Malcolm nods his agreement and says, “I'll do that.”

“Will he ever regain the lost memories?” Ruth asks quietly.

“It's impossible to tell right now,” Dr. Peters replies. “The more severe the head trauma and amnesia the less likely it is. Most of my patients regain at least some of these memories.”

Ruth nods her understanding. So it's possible that Harry won't even remember that they are together now. Dr. Peters rises from her seat, and Ruth and Malcolm follow her to Harry's room. Ruth decides to wait outside while Malcolm investigates Harry's memory loss, so she takes a seat in the waiting room. She opens the book she's brought with her in an effort to distract herself. It's one she's read many times before, Persuasion. Skipping straight to her favourite passages, she focuses her mind and reads.

 

* * *

 

“Hello, Harry,” Malcolm smiles.

Harry opens his eyes and looks at his friend. He's grateful that the pounding in his head has subsided enough to allow him the luxury of using his sight. He's sitting up in bed now as he finds it eases his headache.

“Hello, Malcolm,” he replies. “What time is it?”

“It's just past two,” he answers. “Is there anything I can get you?”

Harry's grateful that he doesn't ask him how he is. He's ready to throw something at the next person who asks him that question. How the hell do they think he is? He feels as if a bunch of over-active pixies have taken up residence inside his skull and are digging for gold using electric drills.

He's about to answer no when he realises that he's thirsty, so he says, “Some water would be nice.”

Malcolm pours some from the jug into the glass and hands it to him. Harry takes it in his right hand and brings it to his mouth. He drinks half the contents before handing it back.

“That's better,” he murmurs. “Thanks.” After a moment he says, “What happened, Malcolm?”

“What's the last thing you remember?” Malcolm asks.

“I remember we were investigating the Jackson case. We had him under surveillance,” he says.

“You don't remember anything after that?” Malcolm enquires.

Harry can tell that he's surprised even though he tries to hide it, and it makes him worry that his memory is worse that he thought it was. “No, nothing,” he answers. “Why? What am I missing, Malcolm?”

Malcolm shakes his head and looks at the floor.

“What?” Harry asks impatiently and a little fearfully.

Malcolm looks up at him and says, “You're missing about two weeks.”

“Two weeks?!” Harry repeats incredulously and a look of panic crosses his face. “I can't be.”

Malcolm is silent and watches as Harry struggles with this information. Then it suddenly occurs to him that Harry won't remember meeting Ruth again.

“What?” Harry asks again. He can see that his friend has thought of something that upsets him and fear gnaws at his insides.

“Ruth sends her love,” Malcolm says carefully after a moment.

“Ruth?” Harry says in a startled voice, and his heart beats faster, “Ruth who?”

Malcolm sighs, “Ruth Evershed, our new analyst.”

“What new analyst?” he demands.

Malcolm remains quiet for a moment, then says, “Ruth Evershed is the woman you've been in love with for over three years. She was working at GCHQ and applied for the new analyst position that Reynolds created a couple of weeks ago. You conducted her interview. She has apparently also been staying in your guest room because of some trouble at her hotel.” He waits a moment while Harry digests this information, and then getting up, says, “I'll fetch her. She's been waiting to see you.”

Harry's heart rate increases once more at the thought of seeing Ruth again. Without his memory of recent events, he feels as if he hasn't seen her in three years and part of him can't wait for their reunion. Another part of him, however, is worried that she doesn't return his feelings and is apprehensive about this meeting. He feels at a disadvantage with his memory lapse. Malcolm, however, doesn't give him time to object and is gone from the room quickly. Then there is the question of how Malcolm knows about his feelings for Ruth. He doesn't usually confide in people, and he finds that puzzling as well. Surely he hasn't been that obvious in his attentions that people have noticed.

His stomach is in knots by the time Ruth knocks on the door and enters the room. The first thing he notices is how beautiful she is. The nervous expression on her face brings back a partial memory of walking into a room, an interview room, at MI-5 headquarters and seeing her with exactly the same expression of apprehension and excitement in her beautiful eyes. It must be the interview Malcolm mentioned, he thinks. Relief washes over him as he realises that perhaps the memories will come back in time.

“Hello,” he smiles. “I'm so glad to see you, Ruth.”

The first thing Ruth notices about Harry is how awful he looks. His face is bruised and scratched, his head is bandaged, and he's wearing a neck brace. His left arm is in a sling and his right leg in a cast. There are small scrapes, cuts and bruises all over his forearms. Malcolm told her about his memory loss, but he advised her to behave normally towards him as if he could remember everything. After all, Harry still loves her even if he cannot recall the last ten days with her. When she'd entered the room, she was very anxious, but his warm greeting makes all her doubts melt away.

“Oh, Harry,” she smiles and moves towards his right side quickly. “You scared the life out of me. I was so worried about you.”

She leans forward and kisses his lips briefly, but the moment she pulls back he wraps his right arm around her waist and pulls her towards him, pressing his lips against hers once more. He feels immense relief as he realises that they're more than just colleagues. Another memory surfaces of holding her in his arms and kissing her while they danced in his sitting room.

“I've missed you so much, Ruth,” he murmurs into her hair as he holds her close. Then pulling back a little and looking at her he asks, “We are... together, aren't we?”

“Yes,” she nods, “since last night, though we haven't...” she blushes and looks down at her hands.

“Haven't made love yet?” he asks gently with a smile. She looks adorable when her cheeks are flushed like this.

She nods, and avoiding his eyes, she swiftly attempts to change the subject by saying, “I've been staying in your guest room because a group of young men were making trouble outside my hotel when you drove me there after my first day. I was planning to move out the next day, but then your children came to stay for the week and things got busy at work, so I just stayed in your guest room. Your children went back home yesterday, before the red flash, so we haven't really had any time alone.”

“Well,” he replies after a moment of unsuccessful attempts to recall any of this, “when I get out of here, I'll take you out to dinner, okay?”

To his surprise, Ruth begins to cry. She buries her face in his shoulder and wraps her arms around his waist.

“Hey,” he murmurs. “Don't cry. I don't _have_ to take you out.”

She shakes her head, and after a few minutes, she manages to get her sobs to subside and she whispers in an quivering voice, “It's not that. You were going to take me out last night and then...”

“I see,” Harry replies, more than a little relieved.

Ruth pulls back a little and wipes away her tears with a tissue. Then she walks over to the sink in the corner and washes her face with the cold water. It's lucky she didn't put any make up on this morning, she thinks. Harry watches her quietly, grateful that she's here with him. If only he could remember. He's had so little time with Ruth that losing two weeks of memories of her is heartbreaking.

She comes back to stand by his side and asks, “Can I get you anything?”

“Water,” he whispers, suddenly feeling exhausted.

She moves over to the table and pours him a glass from the jug. Then she carries it back to him and watches as he lifts it to his lips and drinks thirstily. She's relieved to see that his hand eye coordination is good. He drains the glass, and she carries it back to the table and refills it before offering it to him again. He shakes his head and winces at the pain. Ruth places the glass on the bedside table where he can reach it easily. Then she turns to him, and taking his hands in hers, she says, “Close your eyes, Harry. Rest. I'll wait here a little while, but I have to go back to work. I'll come see you again this evening.”

“Thank you,” he murmurs, squeezing her hand gently as his eyes drift closed.

She watches him for a little while and then, releasing his hand and leaning over, she kisses his cheek and turns towards the door. Outside she finds Malcolm waiting for her. He's already talked to the doctor and has been sitting here for only about five minutes.

“Ready to go?” she asks. “He's sleeping.”

Malcolm nods and gets up saying, “How did it go?”

“It was fine,” she smiles and Malcolm's pleased to see it. It's the first genuine smile he's seen from her since before all this mess started.

“The doctor said that he's going to have to stay in here for at least a week,” he says. “Because of his leg and shoulder injuries, he won't be able to get about except by wheelchair as he won't be able to use crutches.”

“It's going to drive him crazy,” she murmurs, shaking her head sadly.

“I know,” Malcolm nods.

 

* * *

 

It's seven by the time Ruth arrives at the hospital that evening. Jason and Sophie are with her and they chat as they walk along the corridor towards Harry's room. Lucas and Sarah had visited Harry earlier and had happily reported that he was already complaining about the hospital food, a sure sign that he'll be fine. Jason had been busy all day with the interrogation of Jerry O'Neil's brother, Daniel, who'd been brought in for questioning. He's the only one of Jerry's siblings who lives in England and the only one Jerry's implicated directly. Nevertheless, Jack has requested that his MI-5 counterpart in Northern Ireland investigate the other brother and his sister. At six, Jack had taken over the interrogation of Daniel and sent Jason home to rest. Daniel O'Neil was proving to be a hard nut to crack.

They reach Harry's room and knock on the door.

“Come in,” Harry calls, relieved to be distracted from his efforts to remember something. His head hurts too much to watch the television, not that he would be very interested in it anyway. The radio helps somewhat to relieve his boredom, but there's little else to do except think, eat and sleep.

“Harry,” Jason beams, “Lucas said that you're complaining about the food, so we figured you must be feeling better.”

“Hello, Jason, Sophie, Ruth,” he smiles and his eyes linger for a moment on Ruth.

“You look awful,” Sophie exclaims, and then promptly realises what she's said and murmurs, “I mean you-”

“It's quite all right, Sophie,” Harry smiles. “It's refreshing to hear an honest opinion for a change.” Ruth laughs and Harry beams.

“So what have you been doing with yourself in here?” Jason asks. “You must be bored out of your mind.”

“Oh, no!” Ruth exclaims. “Don't get him stared on complaining, Jason, or we won't hear the end of it.”

Jason laughs, and looking at her intently, says, “Cheeky monkey.”

Harry sees the warm look they exchange and a memory of Jason kissing Ruth in a pub surfaces. He suddenly feels nauseous, and he closes his eyes trying to fight the feeling by taking deep breaths.

“You okay, Harry?” Sophie asks and moves towards him.

“Fine,” he murmurs as he lifts his right hand up to his forehead. “It's just the headache. It gets bad at times.”

Why the hell had Ruth been kissing Jason? They were together, weren't they? Was that something that had happened before they started dating? Or was it something he saw after? If only he could remember. Suddenly, a frustrated noise escapes from deep in his chest and he brings down his right hand hard onto the mattress. It collides with something along its way and he hears a yelp of pain. He opens his eyes quickly and spots Ruth standing next to him with a pained expression on her face as she cradles her right hand between her other hand and her chest.

“Careful, Harry,” Jason frowns at him and moves toward Ruth saying, “Here, let me look.”

She shakes her head and replies, “It's nothing. It's fine. See?” and she holds her right hand out for them to inspect. There's nothing obviously wrong with it, but it's still throbbing, and she's sure she'll have a nice purple bruise on it tomorrow.

“I'm sorry,” Harry murmurs, taking her hand in his and rubbing it gently. “I didn't mean to hurt you. I didn't see you there.”

“It's okay,” she smiles, forgiving him instantly. “It must be frustrating for you to be stuck in here. I know I'd be going crazy.”

“It's this bloody headache,” Harry says. “I can't even read or watch television.”

He realises that he's still holding her hand so he lets go quickly, but not before Sophie notices. She watches them with interest and notes the loving look that passes between the pair before Ruth steps back and looks away. How long has that been going on, she wonders. She knows better than to ask either of them right now. For one thing, Harry won't remember, and for another, Ruth will just deny it. She doesn't share personal information easily, that much Sophie knows. Thinking quickly she turns to Ruth and says, “How's James, Ruth?”

Ruth frowns in confusion for a moment before she remembers what Sophie's talking about.

“Who's James?” Jason asks.

“He's fine,” Ruth murmurs. “He's a friend of mine.”

Sophie doesn't miss the puzzled look on Ruth's face as she tries to remember who James is, or the worried look that crosses it as she replies. Harry looks confused, surprised, and a little jealous. All these things confirm Sophie's suspicions. It surprises her somewhat that Harry and Ruth are an item. Ruth is so much younger than him, but then she knows that Ruth's a serious type of person, and it makes sense that she'd be attracted to an older man. But why Harry? She worries slightly as she thinks of his reputation. Still, Ruth is aware of it, so she's obviously going into this relationship with her eyes open. Sophie makes up her mind to not say anything to anyone else yet. For one thing, she knows that Ruth won't like it, and for another, she's sure Lucas won't either and neither probably will Jason. It makes her smile to think that the two younger men have been outdone yet again by Harry. Thinking that they deserve some time alone after their ordeal, she says, “Jason, would you please give me a ride home today?”

“Sure,” Jason answers. “Do you need a ride, Ruth?”

“No, thanks,” Ruth smiles. “Malcolm said he'd pick me up here when he's finished work.”

“Oh, right,” Jason replies, looking a little disappointed.

“Do you mind if we go soon, Jay?” Sophie asks. “I have to be home by nine tonight.”

“No, that's fine,” Jason smiles, recovering quickly from his disappointment at Ruth's rejection. “I have things to do too. See you later, Harry. Hope the head feels better soon.”

“Thanks, Jason, Sophie,” he replies.

Sophie leans over and kisses his cheek, taking him a little by surprise. “Bye, Harry,” she smiles, “Feel better. See you tomorrow, Ruth.”

“Bye,” Ruth waves and watches them go.

There is silence for a minute and then Harry asks, “So, who's James?”

Ruth's head whips round to look at him and she smiles, “It's you.” He raises his eyebrows and she explains, “When we went out to the pub after my first day, Sarah and Sophie wouldn't believe me that I wasn't dating someone, so I said that I was hoping to be with someone soon. I was thinking of you, so when they asked who, I just gave them your middle name.”

He smiles but it's short lived, and he suddenly asks with a frown, “Was that when you kissed Jason?”

Her face pales and she nods, looking down at her hands and refusing to meet his eye. “Yes,” she whispers. “It was such a stupid thing to do. Jason and Lucas were fighting over whose pool team I should be on, and instead of putting a stop to it, I encouraged them. It was very unfair of me, and I still don't know what came over me. It was that night that I found out about your reputation with women, and I suppose, I was scared that I was one of your many conquests. I was hurting and I needed to feel something, anything other than that. So, when Lucas asked me to kiss him, I didn't object and then Jason wanted a kiss too, but then when _you_ kissed me, I felt so very alive again and I knew that I couldn't fight it for very long.” She looks up at him then and there are tears in her eyes as she whispers, “I love you. I always have and I don't think I can stop.”

He reaches for her, too overcome by emotion to speak and pulls her to his chest, holding her tightly with his one good arm. He pulls back a little to kiss her lips and she responds, kissing him gently, slowly, fully, savouring the feel of his lips and tongue against hers. She came so close to losing this, to never being able to kiss him again. He remembers doing this before on his sofa and it finally occurs to him that the memories only come back when he's not looking for them, when there's a connection between the present and the past. So he relaxes his mind and just enjoys the moment, content in the knowledge that this incredible woman really loves him. Even his headache seems to be improving as a result of her attentions.

He shifts uncomfortably and she pulls back slightly. “Are you okay?” she asks worriedly. “Did I hurt you?”

“Oh, God, no,” he murmurs. His eyes are closed and he smiles, “That was just perfect.” He shifts again and adds, “Sorry,” as he opens his eyes and pulls back his arm from around her waist. Then sliding it below the blanket that's covering him, he rearranges himself before lying back and looking at her again.

She has a mischievous smile on her lips and says, “Better?”

“You have no idea,” he replies with a grin. “Now, I know that everything important is still in working order.”

She laughs and he finds himself joining in until the pain in his head stops him. A knock at the door interrupts their moment of mirth, and without waiting for a response, Graham comes bursting into the room.

“Dad, Ruth!” he exclaims and rushes up to her, giving her a hug.

“Hello, Graham,” she smiles and kisses his cheek. “It's nice to see you again so soon, though I'm sorry it's because your dad got hurt.”

Graham now turns his attention to Harry, who's watching the exchange with a mixture of surprise and pleasure.

“Wow, Dad!” he exclaims. “What happened? You look terrible!”

“Thank you, Graham,” he grins. “You should see the other bloke.”

Graham seems unsure of whether he's serious or not, but Catherine laughs at the joke. It's then that Ruth and Harry realise that Catherine and Jane have walked into the room.

There is a moment of silence while Ruth and Jane look over each other with interest. Jane is a little surprised by how young Ruth is. What surprises her most, however, is that, though Ruth is pretty, she's not dazzlingly beautiful like the women Harry usually picks to share his bed. For her part, Ruth is a little intimidated by the elegant, tall, beautiful woman that used to be married to Harry. Harry's busy watching both women with apprehension, convinced that nothing good can come from this encounter. His brain is trying unsuccessful to figure out why Jane is visiting him in hospital and why his children seem to be so familiar with Ruth. He tells himself to relax and just let the memories come when they're ready to. Forcing them won't work.

As the silence stretches on awkwardly, Ruth steps forward and says, “Hello, Catherine. It's lovely to see you again.” She smiles warmly at her, and then turning to Jane, says, “Hello, I'm Ruth. You must be Jane. I'm very pleased to meet you.”

Jane takes the hand she's offering and smiles, “It's a pleasure to finally meet you too. The children have talked about you non-stop since they returned home last night.”

“Oh, dear,” Ruth blushes. “You must really hate me.”

“Not at all,” Jane replies. “I'm glad they had such a good time. I'll feel more comfortable about them staying with Harry in the future.” Ruth is a little surprised by this information, but Harry is completely flummoxed. It must show on his face because Jane continues, “Well, Harry, I'm afraid I have to agree with Graham. You do look awful. What happened?”

She looks concerned and Harry is at a loss as to what has happened to her. Did they miraculously solve their problems over the last couple of weeks and he's forgotten? Everyone's watching him now and he clears he throat before murmuring, “An explosion. I was apparently thrown against a wall, which then collapsed on top of me, though I have no recollection of it.”

“Poor Dad,” Catherine says quietly, and walking over to him, kisses his cheek.

Harry just stares at her and Ruth feels the need to explain what's going on to everyone before they misunderstand him. “Harry's suffering from Retrograde Amnesia,” she says quietly. “It means he can't remember what happened before the explosion. In fact, he can't remember anything from the past couple of weeks.” The children look horrified and Ruth hastens to add, “There's a chance that some of the memories will come back over the next few days.”

Jane now nods her understanding and says, “So you don't remember the truce we declared yesterday?”

Harry shakes his head, winces, and swears under his breath, causing Ruth and Jane to both say simultaneously in the same tone of voice, “ _Harry_!”

Catherine begins to laugh as Harry glances from one to the other, sheepishly murmuring an apology. Ruth, Jane and Graham presently join in the laugher and thus the ice is broken.

“So, you don't remember taking me to the British Museum?” Graham asks presently.

“No,” Harry replies sadly.

“Oh,” Graham says in a disappointed voice. “What about the ice cream we had and the film we watched?”

At the word ice cream, a memory comes back of sitting at the kitchen table with Ruth and his children eating breakfast and talking about desserts, very suggestive desserts.

“What?” Jane asks, eyeing him carefully.

Harry clears his throat and replies, “I just remembered having breakfast together. We were eating strawberries. When was that?”

“Yesterday morning,” Catherine smiles.

“Yes,” Graham beams. “We had strawberries with cream, and you said that you have cream for special occasions, and I said this was one of them.”

“I remember,” Harry smiles. “You said that having strawberries with cream for breakfast at my house qualifies as a special occasion.”

He ruffles Graham's hair and another memory of dancing with his children and Ruth comes back. He turns to Catherine and says, “And I remember dancing with you.”

She smiles at him and says, “That was Friday night.”

“You know,” he murmurs looking at Jane uncertainly. “When they let me out of here, I won't be able to go to work for a little while because of my broken leg and collarbone. Perhaps you could come and stay again for some time.”

Jane studies him for a moment and then nods, “I'm sure we could arrange that. You have a couple of days off school in September, so perhaps we could arrange it around that time.”

“Yes!” Graham shouts and punches the air.

“That would be great,” Catherine smiles.

Harry smiles gratefully at Jane, and for a moment, she's transported back to happier times, when her relationship with Harry had been in its early stages, and he would look at her like that often. It feels good to be back to a point where they can stop being enemies again. Her conversation with him yesterday really made her realise that she's finally able to move on from all the hurt he's caused her, and that it's all because of Simon. He's been wonderful with her, and talking to Harry made her realise just how much she's in love with Simon. God, she was so stupid to marry Harry. Even back at the beginning, she'd never really understood him and this drive he has to fight for his country. She'd admired it, but never understood it. Still, they had two beautiful children together, and she wouldn't trade them for the world.

“Will Ruth be there too?” Graham asks.

“We can always invite her to stay,” Harry smiles.

“Will you come to stay, Ruth?” Graham asks eagerly.

“We'll see,” she smiles, “but in any case, I'd love to spend some time with you both.”

Harry almost makes a comment about her not including him in the people she would love to spend time with, but he remembers Jane's presence just in time, so he says nothing.

Jane glances at her watch and says, “Okay, children, we need to get going. We'll come visit Dad again soon. Take care, Harry.” She smiles at him, then turning to Ruth, she says, “It was a pleasure to meet you, Ruth.”

“The pleasure is mine,” Ruth smiles and proceeds to hug both the children and promise to see them soon.

Ruth's pager beeps just then, and as she glances at it, she sees a message from Malcolm, saying that he will be an hour later than expected.

Jane and the children leave and Harry turns to her and asks, “Do you have to go?”

“No,” she smiles. “Malcolm's running late, that's all.”

“Good,” he replies quite selfishly.

Ruth smiles and says, “Budge up then. I want to sit next to you.”

Harry slowly shifts his body over towards the left. Then Ruth takes her shoes off and climbs into bed with him. They hold each other close, enjoying the contact in silence. A few minutes later, Ruth notices that Harry's falling asleep.

“I'll lower the bed for you,” she whispers and gets out. She finds the foot pedal and presses it until the bed is horizontal.

“Thank you,” Harry murmurs and then adds, “Take my car, Ruth. You don't need to wait for Malcolm. You've had an exhausting day.”

“I'll be fine, Harry,” she replies as she puts her shoes back on. “You go to sleep now.”

“Okay,” he says sleepily, “but I still want you to take my car. It would make me feel better. Besides, if it stays at work for the next four weeks, it probably won't start. Please take it, Ruth.”

“Fine,” she smiles as she moves closer to him. “I will. Now, go to sleep.”

She kisses his lips softly. He smiles and takes her hand in his and a few moments later, he drifts off to sleep and Ruth leaves him to go home. She makes her way back to work by bus. Once on the Grid, she retrieves Harry's keys from his desk, and saying goodnight to Lucas and Malcolm, she leaves for home. Tonight, she thinks happily, she's going to have a lovely bath.

 


	17. Chapter 17

_Sunday, September 2 nd, 1984_

_Harry's House_

 

He's home; he's finally home. He's sitting on the sofa with a warm cup of tea next to him and one of his favourite records playing in the background. God, he's missed this. He closes his eyes and leans back enjoying the comfort of his surroundings.

Ruth had picked him up from hospital that morning. He'd left the hospital behind with a great sense of relief, and even though being in a wheelchair is not something he enjoys, he's willing to put up with it providing he can be home. Getting in and out of the car had been relatively easy as he could stand on his left leg and turn his body to sit in the seat. The only difficulty they'd encountered had been getting into the house as there are a couple of steps up to the front porch. But his brilliant Ruth had thought of everything and had found a folding stool which was just the right height for him to put his right knee on, so that he could move up the two stairs to the door easily without jarring his shoulder by having to hop. It worked so well, that he hadn't bothered with the wheelchair once inside the house, but he'd just used the stool and Ruth's help to get to the sofa instead. He hasn't moved since then, but right now he doesn't want to. He can hear Ruth moving about in the kitchen, and it makes him feel content beyond description.

Many of his missing memories have returned, but not everything. Dr. Peters had explained that the rest are unlikely to come back, but it's nothing to worry about because most people don't really remember everything that happens to them over a two week period anyway. It's only the emotionally charged events that remain for a longer time in our memory. From talking to Ruth and Malcolm, he's certain that he remembers the most important events now, much to his relief.

Of course the explosion is still a blank for him. The last thing he remembers is trying to get Jerry out of that suicide vest. Despite everything, he's glad that he'd managed to save the young man's life. Jason interrogated him, and he said that he's very grateful for Harry and Jason's actions, and he would like to dedicate his life to saving people. He's considering becoming a fireman. He certainly has the guts to pull it off and he'd probably follow orders very well, Harry thinks, though whether he'd be any good at making judgement calls remains to be seen. In the end, only his brother Daniel had been implicated in the plot to kill Harry. Apparently, he had been very close to Patrick and was devastated by his death. It took him all this time to find Harry and come up with a plan for his revenge.

It was the sister who was the most help in closing the investigation. She'd never agreed with the bombings her brother Patrick had carried out and was seriously considering giving him up to the authorities just before he was killed. When she heard about Daniel's plot and how he'd used Jerry, she'd been livid and gave MI-5 her full cooperation, and they've learned a lot they hadn't known about Patrick and Daniel O'Neil as a result.

Harry sighs, and opening his eyes, he picks up his tea and takes a sip.

“Lunch is ready,” Ruth calls from the kitchen. “Do you want it on a tray or in the kitchen?”

“I'll come to the kitchen,” Harry replies, and unfolding the stool he'd used earlier, he lifts himself onto his left leg, bends his right knee and places it on the stool, then turns around and sits in the wheelchair. He folds up the stool and places it across his lap as he attempts to wheel the chair forwards with one arm. All he manages to do, however, is turn it round towards the doorway where he spots Ruth watching him.

“Let me push you to the other room,” she offers and waits for him to nod before moving behind him and pushing the chair through to the bathroom. “I thought you might need to wash your hands,” she smiles at his puzzled look.

“Thanks,” he murmurs.

She pushes the chair to the door and stops it, putting on the break.

“Call when you're ready,” she says and returns to the kitchen.

Harry uses the stool to get into the bathroom, closing but not locking the door, just in case he falls over or something and needs help. This stool was a brilliant idea, he thinks. If he didn't have it, this whole business would have been infinitely more embarrassing and painful for his ego. He makes a mental note to thank Ruth again.

Ruth's had an idea. She's in the kitchen drawing a sketch of it on a piece of paper. When she's finished, she rings Malcolm and explains to him what she wants. He's impressed and thinks that it will work. He says he'll get someone onto it right away so that, hopefully, it will be ready by this afternoon. By the time Harry calls her from the hallway, she's finished her phone call and is ready to help him to the table.

She wheels him to the kitchen and ask him if he wants to use the wheelchair, or one of the kitchen chairs. He prefers the kitchen chair, so she lets him get onto it by himself while she serves the spaghetti bolognese and brings the plates to the table.

“This stool was a brilliant idea, Ruth,” Harry smiles and reaches for her hand across the table. “I would never have been able to get about without it. Thank you.”

“It's good to have you home,” she replies and squeezes his hand before letting go and attacking her food with gusto; she's starving hungry.

Harry watches her for a moment and then turns to his own food. “Mmmm,” he says after his first mouthful. “This is really good.”

“Glad you like it,” she replies and helps herself to salad. “Would you like some?” she asks.

He nods as his mouth is full, so she places some on his plate. She knows how uncomfortable it must be for him to be dependent on someone else for his basic needs, and she's trying to make things easier for him by making accommodations that he wouldn't necessarily notice, like cooking a meal that can be eaten with just a fork. They finish their food and Ruth asks, “Ready for dessert?”

The question is innocent, but as he raises his eyes to hers, it's clear to both of them that their thoughts have simultaneously drifted back to the meal they'd shared on-board John's yacht. Ruth had uttered almost exactly the same words on that occasion but had mean something entirely different. As their eyes meet, Ruth blushes and looks away as Harry smirks and replies, “Does it have whipped cream on it?”

She shakes her head and her lips twitch, but she still looks out the window.

“With chocolate sprinkles on top?” he asks.

Ruth puts her head in her hands.

“Or perhaps it's ice cream,” Harry continues relentlessly, “because I definitely thought that suggestion had potential.”

“ _Harry_!” she exclaims and lifts her head to look at him.

“What?” he asks in mock innocence, but his eyes are twinkling at her.

She's about to say something, but changes her mind and replies, “Apple crumble. I can make custard it you like.”

“Yes, please, to both,” he smiles as his eyes light up. “I haven't had apple crumble since I was a boy. If it's as good as my mother's, I'll marry you.”

Ruth's heart skips a beat, but she knows he's just teasing so she replies, “Oh, is that how you choose your wives?”

“Not all of them,” he says, relieved that she's responding so well to his thoughtless comment, “but my last method didn't work out too well, so I thought I'd try a new one.”

“Do I want to know what your last method was?” she asks with a doubtful look.

“I would have thought it's the same for most people,” he grins. “Great sex.”

She raises her eyebrows at him and asks, “What are you implying exactly?”

“Nothings,” he replies hastily. “I just thought that great sex _and_ excellent apple crumble might work better than the former on its own.”

Ruth opens her mouth to speak and then closes it again before getting up and clearing the dishes from the table. She really needs to stop this conversation right now, or else things are going to get out of hand very quickly. Harry follows her movements and wonders what she was going to say. He watches her as she puts the ingredients together and prepares the custard, stirring it constantly as she heats it on the cooker. She begins to hum a tune and he recognises it from somewhere. He tries to work out where he's heard it before, and he suddenly remembers that she was humming it while washing the dishes on her first night at his house. What was it called? He can't recall, but decides that he'll buy a tape of it or, even better, a record. Perhaps he could give it to her as a present. He smiles at the thought. He'd like to give her a present. Not just a record, but something pretty, maybe some jewellery. He's noticed that she wears the same charm necklace all the time and he wonders what's special about it.

Ruth places a bowl on the table in front of him and he snaps out of his reverie. “Thank you,” he smiles. “I wish I could help you with something.”

You can, she thinks but doesn't say it out loud. He really got to her earlier with his comments about whipped cream and ice cream, and it was all she could do to stop herself from just ripping his clothes off. Luckily he hadn't realised how turned on she was, or he might have very easily got revenge for last week. She shakes her head and smiles. “It's okay,” she says. “Now eat up.”

Harry turns to his food and digs in. It's delicious and he says so, being careful to not compare it to his mother's cooking, even though the comparison would be favourable. Ruth wonders about it but doesn't ask.

They finish their dessert and Ruth clears the table once more and prepares to wash the dishes.

“Would you like me to wheel you next door first?” she asks.

“No,” he replies. “I like your company.”

The phone rings and Ruth moves over to answer it. “Hello?” she says. “Yes, this is Ruth... Oh, hello, Jane.” She turns to look at Harry and says, “Yes, he's just here... Okay, bye.”

She walks over to Harry and hands him the phone; luckily it's a cordless one.

“Hello, Jane,” Harry says as Ruth begins to wash the dishes. “Yes, that's fine... Yes, she will. She said she'd stay and help me out until I get the cast off my leg... Okay... Wednesday after school then... Bye.” He hangs up and says, “Catherine and Graham are coming to stay for a long weekend.”

“That's nice,” Ruth smiles. Then after a moment she adds, “I've been thinking that Graham might like it if you redecorate his room. He told me that he's not into space any more. I was thinking that perhaps he'd like an ancient civilization theme, or a jousting tournament.”

Harry smiles and replies, “I bet he would like that. I know, however, that even if I could paint in my present condition, I certainly wouldn't be able to paint a jousting tournament scene. I'm not an artist.”

“I could help,” she answers. “I'll draw it and you can paint it. You do the bits low down and I'll get the bits that need the ladder done. It'll be fun and it'll give you something to do. Otherwise you'll get really bored here.”

Ruth then launches into a monologue about the coats of arms they can paint and other things related to the project, and Harry watches her quietly. He finds her so sexy when she's roused and excited like this, and the fact that her hands are all soapy and wet as she washes the dishes and waves them about in her enthusiasm, only adds to his arousal. He suddenly feels very frustrated by his injuries. If only he could just get up and carry her to his bed.

“So, what do you think?” Ruth asks eventually as she turns around to dry her hands on the towel.

“It's a good idea,” he replies, though he hasn't really been concentrating on what she's been saying. The _way_ she was saying it was far too distracting. She tilts her head to one side and studies him for a moment, noting his darkened eyes and the way he grips the wheelchair armrests tightly. Desire bubbles up again inside her, and she desperately wishes that he wasn't injured and they could just take this to the bedroom right now. They probably wouldn't even make it to the bedroom, she thinks and immediately regrets it as her mind is flooded by erotic images of them together. She can feel her cheeks burn and she quickly moves behind him and pushes him through to the sitting room, leaving him to get onto the sofa while she puts the kettle on for tea and regains control over herself. While the kettle's boiling, she goes upstairs to look at Graham's room in an attempt to distract herself. It's not a large room and it's surprisingly tidy, though she supposes that Graham keeps it like that to make Harry happy. It wouldn't be difficult to paint it in the next couple of days. She wonders back down to the kitchen to make the tea as she thinks over possible designs for the room. She decides that a jousting tournament would be best as it would remind Graham of the trip to the museum with Harry.

She's just carrying the tea into the sitting room when the doorbell rings. She puts the mugs down by Harry, who's looking at her with a puzzled look as if he's silently asking if she's expecting someone. She nods to him and walks to the door, calling, “Who is it?”

“It's me, Malcolm,” replies a familiar voice.

Ruth opens the door and lets him in. “Come in,” she smiles and embraces him. “I've just made some tea. Would you like some?”

“Yes, please,” he replies and follows her into the kitchen. “Where's Harry?”

“He's in the sitting room,” she says as she makes his tea. “Sugar? Milk?”

“Milk, no sugar, please,” he replies, and opening the large bag he's been carrying, he takes out the hands-free crutch Ruth had him build.

Ruth hands him his tea and takes the crutch from his hands. “It's just like I imagined it,” she smiles after a moment's examination. “Let's go give it to him.”

She follows Malcolm through to the sitting room and watches as Harry and Malcolm greet each other. “Look what Malcolm brought,” she says once Malcolm has taken a seat.

She hands the crutch to Harry, and he inspects it briefly before he figures out what it is.

“This is great,” he smiles and gets up from the sofa to try it on.

“It was Ruth's idea,” Malcolm says. “I just had Terrance from Section A build it. He's really good at that kind of thing.”

Harry bends his right leg and places his knee on the cushioned wooden surface of the crutch. Then he straps the Velcro straps round his thigh to hold it in place, and he takes a couple of careful steps. He soon figures out that it's actually pretty easy to maintain his balance and walks a little more briskly.

“This is wonderful,” he beams and Ruth's reminded of Graham when his face lights up with delight.

Harry walks up to her, and pulling her to him with his good arm, he kisses her firmly on the lips. “Thank you,” he murmurs and releases her, not from embarrassment, but from the realization that if he doesn't, he'll be tempted to do something that will definitely be embarrassing for all three of them.

“My pleasure,” she blushes, taken off guard by his sudden show of gratitude and affection.

Harry turns to Malcolm and thanks him too, before he removes the crutch and sits back down on the sofa to have tea with his friend. It occurs to Harry that now that he can move about with the crutch, he can return to work. Ruth reminds him, however, that his children are coming to visit for a long weekend, and he eventually agrees that he should wait until next week.

At around three, Ruth leaves to go to work as she's got an eventing shift, and Malcolm stays to keep Harry company. It's the first time that they've spent time together outside work with the exception of when the team goes for a drink. They talk about a variety of things: books, music, cricket, and their families. Malcolm stays for dinner and then leaves at round nine. By half past nine, Harry's falling asleep on the sofa, so he decides that he should go to bed. He uses his new crutch to get up the stairs easily. Getting undressed without help proves a little more challenging, but as he's wearing loose fitting trousers and a shirt, he manages in the end. He even succeeds to have something that approximates a shower, by stepping inside the shower and raising his right leg onto the sink to keep it dry. It's quite a difficult position to maintain his balance in, and he's very grateful that he keeps himself in shape. Then he brushes his teeth, and not bothering with pyjamas, gets in bed and falls asleep quickly.

 

* * *

 

Ruth gets home at eleven. She unloads the paint and brushes she's bought from the car and puts them in the kitchen. Then she eats the food that Harry's left for her, and after washing the dishes, goes upstairs.

She pauses in front of Harry's door and listens. She can hear nothing, so she whispers, “Goodnight, Harry,” before she continues along the hall to her room.

She's a little sad to not be sharing a bed with Harry tonight, but she doesn't want to wake him, and judging from the sexual tension between them earlier, she's sure that neither of them would get any sleep tonight if they were in the same bed. She's exhausted and she knows that both of them need to rest. She gets ready for bed and gets in, sighing contentedly to be finally in bed. Soon she's fast asleep.

She wakes suddenly and sits up in bed listening. She hears a moan and gets out of bed quickly, and grabbing her dressing gown, she pulls it on as she moves swiftly to Harry's room. She knocks on the door but gets no answer, so she opens it and walks into his room. The curtains have not been drawn and the moonlight streams through the window, making it easy to make out the shapes of the furniture. Ruth glances around quickly, afraid that Harry has fallen. She makes out the shape of his body in bed and is a little relieved. He murmurs her name and she moves swiftly over to him.

“Harry?” she whispers and touches his right forearm.

“Mmmm,” he murmurs groggily.

“Are you okay? Are you in pain?” she asks with concern.

“Ruth?” he says in a voice that is deep and husky from sleep.

“Are you okay?” she repeats.

Without a word, he reaches his right hand to the back of her head and pulls her towards him, pressing his lips to hers firmly. It takes her a fraction of a second to recover from her surprise and respond. She places her hands on either side of his head and leans over him, kissing him back and opening her mouth to let his tongue in to dance with hers. Soon they're both moaning with pleasure as the kiss grows in intensity and passion. They break apart to catch their breath and Harry murmurs, “I need you, Ruth. I was dreaming about you. I want to be inside you again. Please.”

“Yes,” she whispers and quickly removes her dressing gown and pyjamas, dropping them onto the floor.

He throws off the covers and moves over a little to give her room. Ruth straddles him, and before he can do or say anything, she slides him inside her. “Ruth,” he groans and brings his hands round to cup her buttocks.

She leans over him and captures his lips in hers, their kisses hot, hard, and passionate. She clenches her muscles around his hardened length, and he responds by running his hands along her sides to her breasts. He traces circles with his thumbs over her soft, smooth skin and brushes them gently over her hardened nipples. The contact spurs her into action, and she sits up and begins to rock back and forth on him.

“I've missed you,” she murmurs.

“I know,” he replies in his deepest voice. “It's been too long.”

Harry lifts his right hand up to cup her face, leaving his left one on her thigh. She turns to capture his thumb in her mouth and sucks on it, running her tongue along it and making him groan.

“Let me sit up,” he growls.

She moves off him, reluctantly letting him slide out of her for a moment while he moves himself over to the edge of the bed. He plants his left foot on the floor and sits up against the head-board with a pillow behind his back.

“Come,” he says.

She doesn't need to be asked twice. Quickly she stands on the floor next to him and lifts her leg up to straddle him, placing her foot on the bed. But before she can lower herself towards him, he bends his head down, and cupping her left butt-cheek with his right hand, he pulls her towards his mouth. His warm, moist tongue darts out and licks her delicate folds, making her cry out in pleasure. Her hands find their way into his hair and she pulls him forward, wanting, needing more. He obliges, delighting in the opportunity he has to taste her again after so long. God, how he's missed her.

As she approaches her climax, she pulls away from him and wordlessly lowers herself onto his hardened length once more. She moans as he slides inside her. This is so much better than she remembers. Placing her hands on the wall behind him so as not to hurt his shoulder, she raises herself up again until he's almost out before sliding him back inside her. He groans, and pushing against the floor with his left foot, he thrusts up to meet her. They repeat the motion two, three, four times and he can tell that she's almost there. As she comes down on him again, his fingers find her clitoris and brush against it firmly, making her cry out his name and clench around him as she reaches her climax. Unable to hold back any longer, Harry thrusts into her and empties himself deep inside her, pulling her close against his chest and burying his face in her neck with a deep, guttural moan.

“Ruth,” he murmurs a moment later. “My Ruth... I love you.”

She holds him close and kisses his hair, running her fingers through his damp curls. “I love you too,” she whispers.

They hold each other for a long while, then Ruth gets up carefully and lets him get himself back in bed. Collecting the covers from the floor, she pulls them up over him and slides into bed beside him.

“Goodnight, Harry,” she murmurs and kisses his shoulder lightly.

“Goodnight, Ruth,” he replies, reaching for her hand and holding it in his own. “Thank you. You have no idea how much I needed that.”

“Oh, I think I do,” she smiles. “You can't have needed me more than I needed you.”

He smiles but says nothing, and slowly, they drift off to sleep. Just before she falls asleep, Ruth thinks she hears him say, “See? Great sex,” but a moment later she's asleep, and by morning, she's forgotten all about it.


	18. Chapter 18

_Monday, September 3 rd, 1984_

_Harry's House_

 

Harry wakes up relaxed and happy. He lies in bed with his eyes closed savouring the feeling of extreme satisfaction that lingers in his body. He had the most wonderful dream last night. Ruth had come to his room and they'd made love in his bed. Just thinking about it is making him hard again and he wishes that Ruth was here so they could do it all over again. He smiles at the thought.

“What are you smiling at?” Ruth asks.

His eyes snap open and he turns his head towards the sound of her voice. Her blue eyes are sparkling at him and she's smiling. Harry's smile broadens and he reaches over to touch her cheek. It wasn't a dream then. She pushes her cheek into his hand and strokes his arm.

“You're beautiful,” he murmurs and lets his hand slide down her neck to caress her collar bone. His eyes follow the motion of his hand as it pushes the covers back and skims over her smooth ivory skin. He glances up at her eyes which have now darkened a little. She sits up, letting the covers fall and pushes the duvet down to his waist. Her eyes travel over him appreciatively, noticing the lean strength of his body. There is a very light dusting of blond hair scattered across his chest, and she lets her fingers glide over the surface of his skin, tracing the path of an old scar on his left shoulder and moving down towards his abdomen. He watches her as her gaze roams over him appreciatively, lovingly, and his own eyes darken further. His eyes leave her beautiful face and travel down to her breasts, roaming over the two exquisite, round, perfectly formed, soft mounds. She sees him regarding her and she feels her gut twist with desire. Her nipples harden as he watches and he desperately wants to take the rose coloured buds in his mouth. He slowly raises himself towards her, and she watches intently as he stares at her chest with lust filled eyes and moves his mouth towards it.

Her breathing quickens and she begins to pant slightly in anticipation. She knows, however, that once his mouth touches her, she will be lost, so she presses her palm against his chest and pushes against him. He looks up at her eyes that are now dark pools surrounded by a narrow sliver of blue, and she says in a low, throaty voice, “Let me look at you first.”

Surprised and slightly disappointed at having to delay his gratification, he nods and lies back down on the bed, whispering in a low rumble, “Okay, but it's my turn next.”

His voice sends shivers running up and down her spine and her pelvic floor muscles clench involuntarily in anticipation. She nods slowly as she lets her gaze travel over his broad chest once more and she pulls the covers down to reveal the rest of him. Harry watches as a look of wonder and desire settles on her face when her eyes travel over his now fully erect penis. He feels his control slipping as she admires him and he desperately wants to touch her, but clenching his fists, jaw, and abdominals, he manages to hold back. Her gaze has travelled down to his strong, thick thighs. His calves are still under the duvet, but she doesn't attempt to reveal them. Instead her eyes travel back up him, pausing to admire his manhood once more before making their way to his eyes.

“You're breathtaking,” she murmurs and he can see that she means it. “Close your eyes,” she says softly.

He does, and a moment later, he feels her fingertips stroking his cheeks. They explore the contours of his face, smoothing over his eyebrows and running across his lips. Next they loop around his ears and down his neck to his collarbones. She runs them over his arms, feeling the strength of his biceps and then sliding them back up to his chest, circling his nipples and letting them slide down his abdomen towards his groin. He parts his lips as his breathing speeds up, but he remains still, enjoying her loving touch. She's never done this before and he knows that, if his motions weren't restricted by his injuries, he wouldn't have been able to let her do it now. The care he has to take in his movements has given him the control he needs to hold back and let her take pleasure in touching him. He feels loved in a way he has never felt before and it amazes him that she truly finds him so attractive. Her fingers run down the outside of his thighs now, but once they reach his knees, she glides them over to the inside and up toward his now throbbing erection. He groans in anticipation of her touch.

Harry's pager beeps and he swears loudly. With a frustrated groan, Ruth retrieves it from the bedside table and hands it to him. Taking a deep breath that he lets out slowly, he takes it from her and looks at the screen.

“Malcolm asks if I know where you are. Apparently you haven't answered your page,” he smirks. “What do you think I should tell him?”

“Tell him to use his imagination,” she smiles as she reluctantly gets up, and pulling on her dressing gown, goes to her room to get her pager.

“I'm sure he's already done that, which is why he paged me in the first place,” he calls after her, making her laugh.

It's a Red Flash of course. By the time she comes back to Harry's room, she's already replied to tell them she's on her way.

Harry takes one look at her face and says, “Red Flash?” she nods and he adds, “It's okay, Ruth. You go. We'll continue this later.”

She sighs, and shaking her head, murmurs, “How can you do that?”

“What?” he asks.

“Just switch your brain into work mode so quickly. Duty calls so you drop everything else,” she complains.

“I have to,” he replies, “though now that you mention it, when I was your age I couldn't do it.” He frowns and adds, “That makes me sound old.” She tilts her head sideways and he adds with a smirk, “Anyway, that's how I got so good at giving and getting gratification very quickly.” His voice deepens and he murmurs, “I'll show you if you'd like me to. Come here.”

Feeling curious and more than a little desperate, she moves over to him, letting her dressing gown slide off her shoulders onto the floor again.

“Sit across my lap with your back towards me,” he directs in his deep, sexy voice, and she can feel her insides clench in anticipation. She straddles him with her back towards him and feels him pull her backward gently. She lies down over his chest with her head resting on the pillow over his right shoulder. Her knees are bent and her feet are on the bed, either side of his body. He slides his hands over her chest gently, toying with her breasts and nipples, and tracing patterns down her abdomen towards her sex. He's really very good, and after less than a minute, Ruth is moaning with pleasure. He places his left foot on the bed and tilts his pelvis up toward her, then using his hand to guide his penis to her opening, he pushes against it, sliding into her in one long, fluid motion. His arousal reaches new levels as he realises how much she wants him; she's so wet for him. His right hand moves back to her clitoris, while his left toys with her breast as he moves inside her in slow steady strokes. He wasn't kidding she realises dimly; he's really _very_ good at this. His rhythm is getting steadily faster and she can feel her climax approaching. She feels his mouth close over her left earlobe, sucking it hard, and her hands reach down and grab his buttocks, squeezing them tightly as he propels her forward and over the edge into oblivion. She calls out his name as she tumbles over and he lets go of his self-control, spilling inside her less than a second later. “Ruth,” he groans in her ear as he comes.

He lets her lie still for a minute, savouring the warmth and weight of her body on top of him, before he slides his hands along her arms and whispers, “How was that?” He glances at the clock and adds, “Three minutes, not bad though nowhere near my record. I must be getting rusty.” She laughs and he delights in the feel of her chest quivering against his.

“Was it really only three minutes?” she asks.

“Yes,” he replies with a hint of pride in his voice. “Three minutes from the moment when you straddled me to when I just checked the clock. So technically, it was closer to two minutes because you were lying very contentedly on top of me for some of that time.”

“I don't want to get up now,” she complains. “At least before I was full of energy.”

“You'd have been irritated and unable to focus, whereas now you can be serene and contented no matter what this disaster might turn out to be. And we need our analyst to be calm and focused,” he murmurs. “Now, much as I'd like you to stay right here until I'm ready for round two, you have to go; Duty calls.” He kisses her shoulder and pushes her gently off him.

“All right,” she says as she rolls onto the bed. Then lifting herself onto her elbows, she gives him a long, lingering kiss and murmurs, “Thank you. You truly are amazing.”

“Thanks,” he grins and pushes her once more to get her out of bed. “Now, GO!”

She raises her hands up in surrender, and picking up her pyjamas and dressing gown off the floor, walks out of the room without bothering to put them on. He watches her naked body as she moves gracefully across his room and sighs contentedly. This is turning out to be the best bloody recovery time he's ever had. Even the knowledge that there's a Red Flash isn't making him wish he was back at work. He knows Jason can handle it, and if they really need him, they know where to find him. He closes his eyes, and before Ruth even leaves the house five minutes later, he's fast asleep.

 

* * *

 

Ruth's day on the grid is a whirlwind of activity and by lunch time she's exhausted. Luckily, despite the seriousness of the situation, the problem is resolved quickly and just before five o'clock, Jason, Lucas, and Sarah, make it back to the grid in one piece, though they look a little worse for wear. They've apprehended the members of the drug trafficking group they've been tracking. They are responsible for today's explosion in a warehouse in London, which took the lives of five young people and injured four others, two of them seriously. The youngsters were members of a grass-roots group which was trying to rouse support in the neighbourhood against the drug traffickers.

“Good work today, all of you,” Jack says to his team as they sit in the briefing room. “Write up your reports and then go home.”

Everyone nods and gets up warily to complete their tasks. As Ruth walks behind Lucas and Sarah, she overhears the latter saying, “So you don't want her then?”

“I can't, Sarah,” Lucas says apologetically. “Try asking someone else. Maybe Malcolm will take her.”

“Who?” Ruth can't resist asking.

“The dog we found at the warehouse,” Lucas sighs.

Ruth raises her eyebrows in surprise, “At the warehouse? I thought it was blown up!”

“It was,” Sarah nods sadly, “but when we went to check out the scene, we found a puppy in a corner. She was shielded from the blast by a large metal office cabinet and I couldn't leave her there. I found out that one of the youngsters was trying to find a home for her. I was going to drop her off at an animal shelter, but she's so sweet that I thought I'd ask if anyone here would like her. I think she's a pure breed, though I don't know the first thing about dogs.”

“Poor thing,” Ruth says sympathetically. “Where is she?”

“She's downstairs in the parking lot. I couldn't bring her in and Mike said he'd watch her. Apparently he likes dogs but already has two, so he can't take her home,” Sarah explains.

“Malcolm,” Lucas calls. “Do you like dogs?”

“I do,” he smiles, “but Mother's allergic to them. Why?”

“Oh, nothing,” Lucas replies in a somewhat disappointed voice. “Sarah and I found one at the warehouse and we're looking for a home for it.”

“Ask Harry,” he replies on his way out. “He was just telling me that he loves dogs.”

“Harry!” Sarah exclaims. “Why didn't I think of that before? He has a big house, doesn't he? And I bet his kids would love it.”

“I was going to pass by this afternoon to see how he's doing,” Ruth says quietly. “I could take the puppy and ask him what he thinks. If he doesn't want it, I'll drop it off at the animal shelter for you. No one else seems interested, do they?”

“No, they don't,” Sarah says sadly. “Okay, thanks.”

Ruth smiles and they both return to their work. About an hour later, most of the others have already gone home. Sarah walks up to Ruth's desk and asks her if she's ready to go. Ruth nods and gets up, gathering her things and following her out of the pods. They get to the parking lot and walk up to Mike.

“Hello, Mike,” Sarah greats him. “How's our friend doing?”

“She's all right, Miss Sarah,” he grins. “Hello, Miss Ruth.”

“Good evening, Mike,” Ruth smiles. “I'll be taking her with me. Where is she?”

He goes inside his little cubicle and comes back out carrying a small dog. “Here she is,” he smiles. “She's a little scared, mind.” Then he turns to the dog and coos, “Here you go, girl. This lovely lady's going to take you home and give you a good meal, I shouldn't wonder.”

Ruth stretches out her hand towards the dog and holds it steady for her to sniff. She does, and a moment later, her pink tongue darts out and licks her.

“There,” Mike smiles, “she likes you. Here you go then.”

He hands the dog to Ruth, who takes it in her arms and smiles.

“I've never really been a dog person,” she confesses, “but this one's adorable.”

“She's a Jack Russell, she is,” Mike nods. “I'd take her myself if I had any more room for her, but my wife'll hit the roof if I bring home another stray.”

Ruth and Sarah laugh and say goodnight before they head their separate ways.

“Come on then,” Ruth says to the dog. “Lets get you home to Harry. I hope he likes you because I'm not sure I could part with you now.” The dog looks up at her with adoring eyes and licks her hand. “You do that to Harry,” she advises, “and he'll never be able to resist you.” Then still carrying the dog, she makes her way to the bus stop.

 

* * *

 

Harry hears the sound of the key in the lock and almost groans out loud in relief. He's bored out of his mind already. He gets up from the sofa and straps on his crutch as he hears her call, “I'm home.”

“Thank God!” he exclaims as he walks though to the hall. “I almost lost my mind on my own here.” Then he pauses and takes in the scene before him. Ruth is standing just inside the doorway with her coat buttoned almost to the top. However, poking out of the top of the coat is a furry face that's regarding him with a mixture of interest and apprehension. “Who's this?” he asks in a warm, quiet voice and his eyes soften.

Ruth smiles and replies, “I don't know.” He looks up at her and raises his eyebrows in disbelief. “I mean, I don't know her name,” Ruth elaborates. “Sarah and Lucas found her in a warehouse. There was an explosion in it that killed five young people and she survived the blast. No one could give her a home and I thought I'd ask you if you wanted to.”

Harry looks troubled at the news of the explosion. He shakes his head sadly and Ruth adds quickly, “We got them.”

He nods and then turns his attention back to the dog and coos softly, “Poor girl. I bet that loud noise really scared you.”

He takes a step closer being careful to look down and not directly into the dog's eyes, and making himself look as small as possible. Then he raises his hand slowly and brings it close to her nose. She sniffs him and her ears prick up as she listens to him speak gently and reassuringly to her. Ruth watches with interest, intrigued by this new, openly gentle and loving side of Harry. Soon she feels the dog's tail begin to wag against her side and sees her tongue dart out and lick his hand. He smiles a broad smile and Ruth knows that they're keeping the dog.

“Good girl,” she whispers and unbuttons her coat, lifting the dog out and placing her on the floor.

She immediately runs up to Harry and jumps up at his leg. Ruth shakes her head in amusement and takes off her coat and shoes. Harry's unable to pick the puppy up because of his shoulder, so he turns to the sitting room while the puppy follows him closely, and taking a seat on the sofa, he reaches down for the little dog and places her on his lap. He fusses over her, stroking her, cooing to her softly, and letting her lick his face.

A few moments later, Ruth walks over to them and sits next to Harry. “Five seconds,” she says, and as he turns to look at her with a puzzled frown, she adds, “That's how long it took for you to fall in love with her and now I don't even get a hello.”

“I can do better than a hello,” he smiles, and holding the dog back, he reaches over and gives her a long, lingering kiss. “Hello, Ruth. I've been waiting to do that all day,” he murmurs against her lips before doing it again.

The dog wiggles out of his grasp now that he's ignoring her, and jumping down off his lap, she goes off to explore her new home. Finding his lap now free, Harry shifts himself around and pulls Ruth towards him, deepening the kiss. He trails kisses along her jaw to her ear and whispers, “I have a craving for whipped cream.”

She groans and closes her eyes briefly. When she opens them, he's looking at her with a satisfied smirk on his lips. “We'd better have dinner first then,” she replies, “because after the whipped cream, I'm going to want to try some ice cream.”

His eyes darken and his smile turns into a grin. He gets up from the sofa, strapping on his crutch quickly, and offers her his hand. She takes it and lets him lead her to the kitchen. The table is set for two, with a white table cloth and a vase containing three carnations, one red, one pink and one white. Ruth turns to Harry, who's watching her with a soft smile.

“How did you manage this?” she asks in surprise.

“I'm a spook, Ruth,” he smiles enigmatically. “I have means.”

He guides her to the table and pulls out a chair for her. She sits down and he moves to get the food while she admires the flowers. There's an envelope on her plate addressed to her. She picks it up and opens it. Inside she finds a card. On the front in Harry's handwriting is a poem by Matthew Arnold called Longing.

 

 

Come to me in my dreams, and then  
By day I shall be well again!  
For so the night will more than pay  
The hopeless longing of the day.  
  
Come, as thou cam'st a thousand times,  
A messenger from radiant climes,  
And smile on thy new world, and be  
As kind to others as to me!  
  
Or, as thou never cam'st in sooth,  
Come now, and let me dream it truth,  
And part my hair, and kiss my brow,  
And say, My love why sufferest thou?  
  
Come to me in my dreams, and then  
By day I shall be well again!  
For so the night will more than pay  
The hopeless longing of the day.

 

Smiling she opens the card and reads Harry's message.

“My dearest Ruth,

In the last three years, I've read this poem so often that I know it now by heart. I longed for you and waited for you to appear in my dreams. I cannot begin to describe to you how happy it makes me to have you here with me, no longer an illusion that is gone when I wake, but a reality more beautiful and perfect than I could ever wish for.

Yours always,

Harry x

 

“Oh, Harry,” she murmurs, turning to look at him, “it's beautiful.” She gets up and walks over to him, her eyes brimming with emotion. He places the two plates he's holding back on the counter and smiles at her. Wrapping her arms round his waist, she reaches up and presses her lips against his briefly. “Thank you,” she murmurs.

“It's my pleasure,” he replies. “I wanted to thank you for all you've done for me, including giving me the chance to show you how much I love you.”

She nods and says, “Consider it done,” as she buries her face in his shoulder and squeezes him tightly against her.

Just then the puppy enters the kitchen, and seeing them standing there, it starts to bark and run round them in circles, pausing occasionally to jump up at them before running round the room again. Harry and Ruth laugh and he says, “What a whirlwind she is!” Then he adds, “She must be hungry.”

He releases Ruth, who picks up the plates from the counter and carries them to the table. Harry gets two bowls out of the cupboard and fills one with water and the other with some of the meat and veggies he's cooked. He places them both on the floor, and the puppy goes straight to the food bowl and begins to gobble it down. Then they take their seats at the table and they both watch the dog eating for a moment.

“We should get some things for her tomorrow,” Harry says. “What shall we call her?”

The puppy stops eating and starts running around the kitchen once more.

“How about Aella?” Ruth suggests after a moment. She notices Harry frowning at her and adds, “She was the Amazon that Hercules killed. It means whirlwind in Greek.”

“Whirlwind,” Harry repeats and smiles. “It suits her. Okay.”

The puppy pauses in the middle of the kitchen and starts sniffing around. The moment Ruth sees her begin to crouch down, she gets up, and picking her up, takes her outside through the back door. The puppy goes over to the edge of the grass and relieves herself. “Good girl,” Ruth praises her and calls her back inside.

Aella, however, is intent on exploring her new surroundings and doesn't respond to Ruth's calls. After about a minute, Ruth gives up and goes back inside. “She isn't ready to come back in,” she shrugs as she sits down at the table.

“She should be fine,” Harry smiles. “There's no way out of the garden to the front and we can watch her from here.”

They eat their dinner, and after they've finished, Harry gets up and puts the kettle on for tea. He also produces a cheesecake, much to Ruth's surprise.

“Don't tell me you made this!” Ruth exclaims.

“Okay, I won't,” he smiles as he makes the tea.

Ruth laughs and says, “No, seriously. Did you make this?”

He walks over to the table with the mugs and sits down before asking in a slightly hurt voice, “Is it so hard to believe?”

“No,” she replies quietly, “it isn't actually.”

“I never have time to cook,” he says, “but I do enjoy it. It's a recipe my grandmother used.”

“It looks delicious,” she murmurs as she watches him serve it into plates for them. “Mmmm,” she says a moment later, “and it tastes delicious too.”

“Good,” he replies and can't resist adding, “don't forget to save room for the whipped cream.”

She laughs, then frowning slightly, she says, “You know, cheesecake could be even better than whipped cream.” He raises his eyebrows at her and she explains with a cheeky smile, “If you smear it well, it would take a lot of licking to get it all off.”

Harry's eyes darken and he murmurs in a deep voice, “You're just full of bright ideas, Miss Evershed, and if I wasn't hampered by these bloody injuries, I wouldn't let you leave the kitchen right now.”

Ruth smiles and replies, “Well, that's something to look forward to then, isn't it?” They hold each other's gaze for a few moments before they're interrupted by a scratching at the back door and a small bark. “You start the dishes,” Ruth says, “and I'll find her somewhere to sleep.”

Harry sighs and nods his head as they both get up and begin their tasks. After a short search in the airing cupboard, Ruth finds an old blanket and puts it down for Aella in the corner of the kitchen. Harry sits down close to her and strokes her, whispering comforting words to her until she settles down, while Ruth finishes the washing up. It's still hard for Harry to do anything that requires two hands for long. Surprisingly, when Harry and Ruth head quietly upstairs, Aella doesn't stir from her blanket, but sleeps on contentedly.

They reach the top of the stairs and Ruth turns towards the guest bedroom. Harry's momentarily worried and asks a little uncertainly, “Are you... I mean, would you...?”

Ruth turns to him and smiles reassuringly, “I was counting on it.” He nods as relief washes over him and she adds, “I'll just get ready for bed.”

He turns towards his own room and gets undressed before entering the bathroom. When he comes out, Ruth is already in his bed and under the covers. He's completely naked, and she watches him intently as he makes his way over to the bed, removes his crutch, and pulling back the covers a little, sits down on the bed before reaching under the pillow for his pyjamas.

“Don't bother,” she murmurs quietly and he turns round to look at her. Her eyes are dark and filled with desire, and he watches as she slides her hand out from under the covers and produces a tub of whipped cream. He smiles and she says huskily, “Ladies first.”

Then moving very swiftly, she sits up and pulls him backwards. He falls onto the bed and she quickly moves to straddle him. “I brought some ice cream too,” she murmurs as she leans down to kiss him, “but it needs to thaw a little first.”

“You're too good to be true, Ruth. I think I must be dreaming,” he groans as he cups her breasts and their lips meet in a hot, passionate kiss.

 


	19. Chapter 19

_Tuesday, September 4 th, 1984_

_Harry's House_

 

He wakes up and turns towards Ruth, but the bed is empty. Raising his head, he looks around the room for her, but she's not there. Both the bathroom and bedroom doors are ajar. He listens. Nothing. Frowning, he glances at the clock only to discover that it's barely past six in the morning. It's early for her to be up even when she has to get to work. He gets up, strapping on his crutch quickly, and makes his way towards the bathroom, but before he can get there, he hears a noise coming through the bedroom door. He changes direction, and grabbing his robe, he slips it on as he moves to the landing, tying the cord around his waist.

He finds Ruth in Graham's room. The furniture's in the middle of the room, covered with the old sheets he'd draped over it yesterday. He'd also applied a coat of primer onto the walls to cover the dark, blue paint that was already there. In fact, he'd made good progress, considering that he couldn't use his left arm much. The paint roller with the extendible handle that Ruth had bought made it much easier to reach higher up the wall, and he'd managed to get to all the places except the edges up by the ceiling and higher up where the walls meet. As he looks around, he realises that Ruth must have finished those bits this morning. On the wall directly opposite the door, Harry can make out the outline of a knight on horseback, preparing to attack his opponent in a jousting match. Ruth has her back to him and is standing back, surveying her handiwork with a critical eye.

She's wearing a short skirt and a tight fitting short-sleeved top, and as his eyes travel up her beautiful legs, he feels his desire awaken. “It looks excellent,” he murmurs, startling her out of her thoughts.

She visibly jumps at the sound of his voice and whirls round to face him. He chuckles and she glares at him. “You scared the life out of me,” she complains, then turning back to her drawing, she adds, “I'm not happy with the horse.”

Harry steps closer to her and stands behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist as she leans against his chest. “You won't get very far by tomorrow if you're going to be a perfectionist about it,” he murmurs.

“You're right,” she sighs. “What time is it?”

“About ten past six,” he replies, running his hands along her legs, over her hips and up towards her breasts, as he pulls her against his hard body.

“Harry,” she warns, “I have no time for this. I have to get the drawing finished before work, so you can begin painting.”

“You know,” he murmurs huskily, “what I have in mind needn't take long.”

“You have a one track mind, do you know that?” she smiles and turns in his arms to face him.

“I can't help it,” he grins. “You take my breath away.”

He leans down and presses his lips to hers, wrapping his arms around her and lifting her up off the floor. She squeals in surprise as he carefully walks forward until she's pressed between him and the knight she's been drawing. Her legs wrap around his waist as his hands move down to cup her bum. Their tongues swirl together, her fingers sliding through his short curls and his hands squeezing her butt-cheeks as he runs his fingers between them over her delicate folds through the material of her knickers. She groans into his mouth and presses herself against his fingers.

“What do you say now?” he asks in his deep, throaty voice.

“Damn you, Harry,” she pants. “I'll never get this finished.”

“Tell you what,” he murmurs, “I'll go back to the bedroom, and when you're ready, you can come and join me.”

“Oh no, you don't,” she replies as she squeezes him tightly with her legs and presses her lips to his once more. He smiles briefly at his victory, but soon he's lost in the feel of her against him, her soft curves moulding to his hard body, her lips and tongue caressing his mouth, her hands massaging along his hairline, her wet heat pressing against his fingers. He pins her against the wall with his pelvis as his hands travel up her sides, peeling up the material of her top and caressing her skin lightly. He winces at a stab of pain in his shoulder as, without thinking, he raises his arms up too high. Without a word, Ruth helps him pull her top off as he holds her steady with his hands on her hips, and she drops it on the floor. She's not wearing a bra and he gazes at her naked breasts with lust filled eyes.

“You're so beautiful, Ruth,” he murmurs. “I just can't get enough of you.”

His mouth closes over one of her nipples, licking and sucking it gently and then harder as she pulls his head towards her with a soft, “Oh,” of pleasure. His fingers pull aside her underwear, which is now soaking wet from her juices, and pulling apart the overlapping material of his robe, he presses the swollen tip of his erection against her, sliding it along her folds slowly, teasing them both until he can't wait any longer. He lifts his head and looks into her dark, blue eyes that are brimming with passion before he trusts into her abruptly, burying himself in her slick warmth as he grunts in satisfaction.

She moans, “Yes, Harry. Oh, yes,” as he pulls back and thrust in again, hard and deep. He watches her face as he fucks her hard against the wall, delighting in the way she accepts every rough thrust as he penetrates her tender heat. Her eyes are blazing as she looks back at him and moans words of encouragement, begging him to move faster and deeper to stroke the deep knot of desire inside her.

“Fuck, Ruth,” he growls. “You're so hot, so sexy. You drive me wild.”

She grabs his arms with her hands, delighting in the feel of his muscles bunching below her fingertips as he holds her buttocks tightly, squeezing them as he thrusts into her. He could have come several times already, but fucking her like this feels too good to cut it short, so he holds on, delaying his release and watching her face, taking in every nuance of her expression as he moves inside her. There's nothing gentle about this coupling. It's all raw power and emotion, twisting together and spiralling out from them, and the intensity of it is such that he's actually surprised that the wall behind her is still standing.

In her face, he can see that she's almost there, so he thrusts into her faster still, and soon she cries out as her orgasm hits her, a sensation more powerful than she's yet to experience, spiralling from her toes, up through her core and radiating out to the rest of her body like an electric current, making her skin tingle all over as her hair rises up in goosebumps. She squeezes his arms tightly, almost painfully, and he watches her with eyes wide open and full of lust as he continues to pound into her, adding to the intensity of the sensations coursing through her body. Her muscles are clenched tightly around his length, and he cannot hold on for long when he feels the deeper contractions of her vaginal walls ripple around his now throbbing erection. He drives into her again as he buries his face in her neck, sucking on the soft skin at its base. Once more and that'll be it, he realises. He feels her hot breath near his ear before she plunges her tongue inside his ear canal and he comes, thrusting hard, deep inside her, and shuddering against her as he cries out her name.

How he manages to stay upright is beyond him. His whole body seems to have turned to jelly. He slowly lowers Ruth to the floor, afraid that he might drop her if he doesn't. His penis slides out from her slick heat and she shudders in his arms at the sensation. She supports her weight on her legs for a few seconds, but then they give out from under her, and with a moan, she slides to the floor, her back resting against the cool surface of the wall behind her. Harry would very much like to join her there, but his injured leg makes it easier to remain standing, despite the shaky state of his leg muscles. He's never experienced such an intense orgasm before.

“Mind blowing,” he murmurs out loud.

“Yes,” Ruth whispers in reply and a soft smile appears on her lips. She raises her head and looks up at him as he towers above her. His forehead's resting against the wall and his eyes are closed. His fingers are spread wide as his hands press against the cool surface in front of him. He's beautiful despite the scars that he carries on his body, evidence of the sacrifices he's made for his country. Her eyes fall on his penis and she realises that she's never seen it look so small. Every time she's looked at it, he's been semi or fully erect. She wonders what it feels like, so she boldly reaches up her hand and strokes two fingers down its length, causing him to inhale sharply and open his eyes to look at her.

“You're beautiful,” she murmurs, her eyes never leaving his manhood. Then she pushes herself up onto her knees and places a soft kiss where her fingers have just touched him, but even that isn't enough, so she opens her mouth and takes him inside it. Gently she explores him with her tongue and lips. He's so soft and perfect, she thinks, and so completely different to what he's like when he's hard. She presses him onto the roof of her mouth with her tongue and is amazed at how she can squeeze him and he changes shape, moulding to the shape of her mouth. She lets him slide back out of her mouth and pulls back his foreskin, delighting in this chance she has to explore him. Then she takes him back into her mouth and sucks on him gently, feeling him stretch against her tongue. Soon she feels him grow in size, harden and thicken, taking on the familiar non-pliable shape. She marvels at how large he becomes; whereas a moment ago she could fit all of him easily into her mouth, now she can barely accommodate half of his length. She lets him slide out, raking her teeth against his shaft and eliciting a groan from his lips. She runs her tongue along his length and then swirls it around his head, following its contours round in a circle and dipping it into the small opening at the top. Her hands grab hold of his shaft and begin to slide up and down it rhythmically as she sucks gently on the tip. Then she twists her hands around him like a corkscrew, delighting in the sounds of approval coming from his mouth. “Ruth,” he moans as he gets closer to his orgasm.

“Watch me, Harry,” she murmurs in a husky voice and sees him open his eyes and stand up, pushing away from the wall as she opens her mouth and takes him inside her once more. She sucks on him hard, pulling him all the way into her mouth and letting him slide against the back of her throat before pulling him back out and doing it again.

“I want you to come all over me,” she murmurs boldly as she releases him once more and uses her hands to massage him, sliding them firmly over his length.

“Fuck, Ruth,” he groans.

“That's right, Harry,” she murmurs looking up at his face, “All over me.” Her words push him straight over the edge and he moans her name as he comes, watching her with eyes that are almost black with passion as he ejaculates all over her breasts. She smiles in satisfaction and stands up in front of him, pressing herself against his chest and smearing his cum all over both of them as she kisses him passionately.

“Dear God, Ruth,” he pants when they pull apart for air. “You're unbelievable. Come to bed. I have to taste you.” Then releasing her and pulling her by the hand, he makes his way to his bedroom as fast as his injured leg will allow him. Once inside the room, he walks up to the bed and pulls her to him, attacking her lips with passionate, hard, almost brutal kisses. He pushes her onto the cool sheets, and after getting rid of his crutch, he kneels down before her and slides two fingers inside her, sucking on her clitoris hard with his mouth. She comes almost immediately, but he doesn't stop. He continues his caresses, curling his fingers forward and pressing his thumb against her clit.

“I can't believe what you just did to me, Ruth,” he growls as she moans and whimpers under his touch. Then he adds, “D'you like that? Hmmm? God, how I love to watch you. I love how I can make you lose control and call out my name in ecstasy. You're so hot and sexy. Look at you! You're magnificent.”

He presses his mouth to her core once more, using his lips, tongue and teeth to excite her again, and sending her straight over the edge. Then he works his way up to her lips, kissing her tenderly this time and pulling her to his chest as they both get back in bed and close their eyes in satisfaction.

 

* * *

 

Ruth opens her eyes and sees Harry watching her.

“Hi,” he murmurs.

“Hello,” she replies. “You look smug.”

“I feel smug,” he chuckles and kisses her lips.

“Am I late for work?” she asks sleepily.

“Not yet,” he replies. “You have about five minutes before you have to get up if you're quick.”

“Good,” she answers and closes her eyes again. After a moment she says, “I think I should put different coats of arms all along to the top of the wall. What do you think?”

He smiles fondly at her and murmurs, “Now who has a one track mind?”

She opens her eyes and smiles at him before stretching and sitting up. “I feel all sticky,” she says.

“You are,” he replies, “and so am I, thanks to you.”

“Hey,” she murmurs with a grin as she turns to look at him, “it's your sticky stuff, so don't go blaming me.”

He chuckles and gets out of bed, strapping on his crutch and heading for the bathroom. “Coming?” he asks, and she nods and follows him into the bathroom.

They shower together, which actually makes it much easier for Harry as he still needs to balance with one leg outside the shower. Ruth washes him, enjoying this new opportunity to intimately explore his body.

By the time she's finished, he's already almost fully erect, and she smiles wryly and shakes her head at him saying, “Once your injuries have completely healed, there's no way I'm ever going to get anything done when we're both home, is there?”

“No,” he murmurs huskily. “I have three lonely years without you to make up for.”

She reaches up and kisses his lips softly before pulling back and saying, “Have you decided if you're going to tell your kids about us yet?”

He shakes his head and replies, “I don't know. What do you think?”

“I think we should play it by ear,” she replies, pleased that he's asked for her opinion. “Even when you tell them, it's probably best to be a little... um... reserved in front of them. Catherine already knows about my feelings for you, and I think she'd appreciate it if you trusted her and talked to her about it.” He nods as they get out of the shower and dry each other. Ruth continues after a pause, “At least Jane's also dating someone, so it'll make it easier for you. I don't imagine Graham will mind either way.”

“I think he will,” Harry replies. “He has a crush on you and he might not like it if I win the competition.”

Ruth laughs and replies, “We'd better make progress on his room then, so he has some compensation.”

“Do you want children, Ruth?” he asks suddenly, and she pauses in the act of hanging up her towel and turns to look at him. He watches her carefully and adds, “Please be honest with me. I'd like to know.”

“I've never really given it a lot of thought, Harry,” she answers. “I suppose the idea appeals to me, but at the same time, I've never been very big on babies and toddlers. Nine to twelve year olds are my thing, and then there's work, and I feel that it would be a little selfish to have kids when I have Red Flashes, long hours, and a dangerous job to deal with,” she says thoughtfully and then adds, “I'm happy just sharing your children. I love them already, and I get to skip all the nappy changing and sleepless nights and go straight to telling stories about Vikings, playing Monopoly and football, and redecorating rooms.”

He smiles at her and nods, “I'm glad you're happy with what I have to offer.”

They get dressed and make their way downstairs. Aella's there to greet them when they open the kitchen door, jumping up at them in joy and rushing around like mad. Ruth takes her out into the back yard while Harry makes breakfast, which they eat shortly afterwards. Ruth leaves for work, leaving Harry to do some more of the painting, but before she leaves, she shows him some sketches she's made that she'd like to incorporate in the design on the walls. Harry's surprised by how much he enjoys the painting job, especially the creative side of it. He paints the sky and grass, along with some trees and a few of the easier coats of arms along the bottom of the walls, making sure to leave plenty of room for Ruth to draw the second knight and the more intricate coats of arms.

By the evening when Ruth comes home, he's finished more than half the room. She manages to get home a little earlier today, so after a quick bite to eat, Harry and Ruth set off in Harry's car to go and get some things for Aella. They return an hour and a half later laden with purchases for her, from a collar and lead, to a crate and some toys. Aella's not very pleased to be wearing a collar, and she scratches at it like mad, so in an effort to distract her, Harry decides to take her for a walk to the park at the end of the road while Ruth rests after work.

When Harry and Aella get back, they find Ruth painting upstairs. “You're supposed to be resting,” Harry frowns at her.

“I am,” she smiles as she turns around to look at him. “This is fun and, therefore, it counts as resting. You did a great job this morning. You must have enjoyed yourself.”

“I did,” he admits, and moving close to her, he picks up a brush and begins to help her paint the second knight's horse. They work together quietly, enjoying each other's company, and by the time they put their brushes away for the day, they've finished almost all of it.

“We're on track for tomorrow,” Harry says as they step back and admire their handy work.

“I have an evening shift tomorrow,” Ruth replies, “so I'll be able to help you finish it and put things back in the morning. Unfortunately, I won't be here to see Graham's face when he sees it,” she sighs.

“I'll take a picture,” Harry smiles, and wrapping an arms round her waist, he kisses her hair before adding, “Now, come on. Bed.”

“I'm hungry,” Ruth complains, so they head downstairs for a snack and let Aella out for a run before they turn in.

As Harry gets in bed next to her, he notices how tired she looks and murmurs, “You look exhausted. You're overdoing it.” Her protest is cut short by a loud yawn that escapes her and makes them both laugh. Then she cuddles up to him, and a few minutes later, they're both asleep.

 


	20. Chapter 20

_Wednesday, September 5 th, 1984_

_Harry's House_

 

“Good morning, my sleeping beauty,” Harry murmurs as he sits down on the bed next to Ruth and pushes her hair away from her face gently.

“Mmmm,” she grumbles and turns away from him in protest.

Harry chuckles and says, “Come on. We have a paint job to finish before lunch.” She continues to ignore him so he rubs her back gently and adds, “I've brought you breakfast.”

Ruth slowly opens her eyes, and rolling onto her back, she rubs them sleepily. “What time is it?” she asks.

“It's nine,” he smiles.

Surprised and suspecting he's teasing her, Ruth glances at the clock. “So it is,” she murmurs in disbelief. The last time she'd slept in so late on a weekday, she was at university.

“Feeling better?” he asks. “You were exhausted last night.”

“Much, thank you,” she smiles and sits up, letting him place the tray across her lap. “This looks delicious,” she says and begins to eat while Harry sips his tea.

“Ruth?” he says after a bit.

“Yes?” she replies between mouthfuls of scrambled eggs.

“Are you really going to stay here with me?” he asks quietly.

She looks up at him and can see the underlying anxiety in his eyes. “If you still want me too, I will,” she murmurs. He looks relieved, and looking down at her hands, she adds, “I have to say that I had my doubts before, but it's been surprisingly easy to live with you these past few weeks, and I'm no longer worried. In fact, after almost losing you like that, I feel that I want to take advantage of every moment we can have together, and I know that we wouldn't be doing that if we lived apart; too much time would be lost in travelling back and forth.”

He smiles and nods in agreement, “I'm glad. We should sort out the details of our cohabitation. You must have more things than what fits in that small suitcase you arrived with.”

“Yes,” she smiles. “They're at my mother's.”

“Well,” he replies, “perhaps you'd like to bring them here. I could help.”

“And meet my mother?” Ruth teases. “You might regret that offer later.”

“You forget, Ruth,” he grins. “I'm trained in counter-interrogation techniques.”

“So you are,” she smiles. “It'll be quite a nice change to have a boyfriend who's not intimidated by my mum.” Harry leans over and kisses her firmly on the lips. “What was that for?” she asks.

“It's the first time you've called me your boyfriend,” he grins. “Admittedly, it makes me feel about fifteen, but it's a nice feeling none the less.”

“Okay,” she laughs. “How about partner? Any better?”

He kisses her again, and pulling back slightly, murmurs, “Both are wonderful to hear.”

Ruth clears her throat and whispers, “Good,” before she succumbs to the temptation, and leaning forward, kisses him back. Their lips part and their tongues venture out to meet and dance together, and for a few moments, they lose themselves in each other and the feelings and emotions running through them. When they pull apart, they're breathing heavily and can see the desire in each other's eyes.

“No,” Ruth shakes her head emphatically.

“Why not?” he asks and gives her his best pout.

“We won't finish Graham's room in time,” she states firmly even as she feels her resolve weakening at the way he's looking at her. “It needs time to dry.”

With a sigh, Harry nods. Then brightening up a little, he says, “What about while the paint's dying?”

“Bloody hell, Harry!” she exclaims. “You're insatiable!”

Harry laughs and murmurs, “But, Ruth, be honest now. Would you really want me to be a once a week man, or heaven forbid, a once a _month_ man?”

“No,” she admits with a little half-smile as she shakes her head at him. “I wouldn't.”

“There you go then,” he smiles. “Right. I'm going to paint.” He gets up, and at the door, he turns and adds with a wink, “The sooner we get started, the sooner we'll be done.” Her laughter follows him out of the room, making him smile.

 

* * *

 

“I have a lot of books,” Ruth volunteers a little apprehensively as they put the finishing touches on Graham's room together.

Harry stops and turns to look at her, saying seriously, “Oh, no! Well, in that case, I'm afraid the deal's off. Go pack your things; I'm taking you to a hotel.”

Ruth smiles and waves her paintbrush at him as she threatens, “Hey! Watch it or I'll redecorate your t-shirt next.”

Harry shrugs, and refusing to take the bate, he adds, “Don't worry, Ruth. We'll find a place for all your things, and if they don't fit, I'll get rid of mine to make room for them. I only need you. Nothing else matters to me.”

Ruth is speechless for a moment, then she shakes her head in disbelief as she murmurs, “You say the sweetest, most romantic things, Harry.”

“Do I?” he asks. “I only say what I feel. I cannot even bear to think of living in this house without you now. Losing the children was bad enough, but if I lose you, I think I might have to sell the place.” He smiles at her and continues, “So whatever you need is yours. If you need your own space, we can convert the guest room into a study for you. If you need more space for your books, we can buy more bookcases, or throw out all of mine to make room for yours.” He takes her hands in his and looks at her earnestly, “Anything you need, I will do for you. Anything.”

She nods and whispers, “You're too good to me; I don't deserve you.”

“Nonsense,” he scoffs and kisses her cheek.

“What about you?” she asks. “What can I do for you?” He tilts his head and raises his eyebrows at her. “Except for that!” she exclaims in exasperation, but her eyes twinkle at him in pleasure.

“Ah, well, in that case,” Harry grins, “you can start by moving into my room if it's not too much to ask. I hate having you disappear across the hall every morning.”

“Okay,” she nods. “I can do that. Anything else?”

“Not really,” he shrugs.

“What about housework, cooking, shopping, taking care of the dog,” she says counting the things off on her fingers as she mentions them, “washing up, laundry-”

“What about them?” Harry interrupts.

“Well,” Ruth frowns at him, “we should come up with a fair division of labour. Obviously you can't do much now, but you'll recover soon, and I would rather we work out some kind of a schedule or something so we don't end up in an argument over it later.”

“Can't we just do those things when we think of them?” Harry smiles, amused by how seriously she's taking it.

“No,” Ruth replies. “I tried that once and it doesn't work. One person always ends up doing most to the work and then resents it.”

“Really, when was that?” Harry frowns, suddenly feeling a little jealous despite the fact that he knows it's unreasonable.

“Feeling a little jealous, are we?” Ruth murmurs.

Harry says nothing, but his frown turns into a scowl, and dipping his brush into the paint, he turns towards the wall again.

Ruth watches him for a moment and can't help smiling as she sees him struggle to deal with his emotions. Then she relents, and picking up her own brush, she dips it in the paint and returns to her task as she says, “As I was saying, Maria and I worked out a schedule for doing the housework, but we could just split the tasks down the middle if you prefer.”

Harry stops painting and turns to her, watching the smile tug at her lips. “Just for that, Ruth,” he says in a low, dangerous voice, “I get first choice _and_ the right to choose what we do while the paint's drying.”

When she turns towards him, his hazel eyes are dark and intense, and she's a little alarmed by the danger she sees lurking in their depths. It's the first time she's seen such a look in his eyes directed at her, and despite the fact that she knows he would never harm her, it still sends her heart rate shooting up and her brain into overdrive from the sudden adrenaline rush. She swallows and almost squeaks, “Okay.”

His eyes hold hers hostage for a moment longer before he softens his gaze and murmurs, “Cooking.”

“Cooking?” she asks momentarily forgetting what they've been discussing. “All right, I'll take laundry, and how about we share the washing up?”

“Fine. Walking the dog.”

“Shopping.”

“Vacuuming.”

“Dusting.”

“Dusting?” he asks incredulously. “I never dust, Ruth.”

“That explains a lot, Harry,” she grins.

“The house doesn't need dusting, Ruth. I'm not accepting that. Pick something else.”

“I suppose you'll tell me next that you don't iron your clothes either.”

“Don't be daft. But we each iron our own clothes.”

“All right, feeding Aella.”

“Which leaves, what?”

“Um... cleaning the bathrooms and kitchen?” she suggests.

“We alternate weeks.”

“Fine.”

“Good,” he grins. “ _Now,_ it looks to me as if we're done here.”

“I think we are,” Ruth smiles as she looks around at their work. “We did an excellent job. I think he'll love it.”

“He will,” Harry nods. “Right. Let's clean up and let the paint dry while we do something even more enjoyable together.”


	21. Chapter 21

_Wednesday, September 5 th, 1984_

_Harry's House_

 

Harry gets up and makes his way to the front door, checking to see who's there through the peep-hole. He swings the door open. “Hello, Graham,” he smiles.

“Hi, Dad,” Graham grins.

“Come in. Where's your sister?” Harry replies and pulls him unto a brief hug.

“She's talking to Jake,” Graham replies as he rolls his eyes with a long suffering air and makes his way into the house.

Harry frowns and looks over to the garden fence where Catherine's chatting with a boy of about the same age as her. Harry steps outside and makes his way towards them. “Hello, Jane,” he says to his ex-wife as she appears from the other side of the car and looks like she's also making her way over to Catherine.

“Hi, Harry,” she smiles. “How are you?”

“I'm fine. You?” he replies, pausing in his walk to talk to her.

“Excellent, actually,” she grins.

“Oh?” he raises his eyebrows at her, taking in her glowing face. She looks really happy.

“Simon's asked me to marry him,” she volunteers.

“Well, congratulations, Jane,” he replies with a genuine smile. “I hope he's a better husband than I was. You deserve better.”

“Thank you, Harry,” she smiles. “Though I have to say that you did have your moments. You look like you're happy too. Ruth taking good care of you, is she?” she asks with a mischievous smile.

Harry stares at her for a moment, debating the wisdom of confirming her suspicions or not. Eventually he decides that it's wiser to not insult her intelligence by denying it. After all, their friendship is a very new thing and, consequently, very fragile, and he really doesn't want to go back to the way things were. “She is,” he nods.

Jane almost makes a sly comment about this, but decides against it at the last minute. “Is that little Jake?” she says instead, nodding in the direction of their daughter who is conducting an animated discussion with the boy next door.

“It is,” Harry frowns. “Not so little any more.”

“Oh, Harry,” Jane smiles, glancing at his face. “You're not going to be difficult, are you?”

“Difficult?” he asks, adopting a nonchalant air. “What do you mean difficult?”

“You have that look,” she replies. “The one you always used to wear where you were about to give one of the kids a lecture about something.” He glances at her in surprise, wondering how Jane can read him so well and hoping that it's not so easy for everyone else, or he'll be out of a job in no time at all. “She's fourteen, Harry, and I'm afraid that it's quite normal that she's discovered the joys of attention from the opposite sex.” He scowls. “Anyway, I remember him as being a kind, gentle boy.”

“He still is,” Harry concedes grudgingly.

“There you go then,” Jane smiles.

They watched as Catherine and Jake make their way towards them.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Pearce,” Jake smiles. “How's that paint job coming?”

“Fine, thank you, Jake,” Harry replies a little tightly, but Jake doesn't seem to notice. He'd asked the lad to help him move Graham's furniture on the first day so he could start covering the walls with the primer. In truth, Harry does like the lad. He's a good sort, polite, considerate, and helpful, and has been living next door with his grandparents since he was six when his parents had been killed in a car accident. That doesn't mean, however, that Harry approves of him talking to his daughter and looking at her like that. God, things were so much easier when they were little, he thinks as he stifles a sigh.

“Hi, Dad,” Catherine smiles and kisses her father's cheek.

“Hi, Catherine,” he replies, a little more warmth creeping into his voice.

“Hello, Ms...” Jake begins and falters unsure of what to call Jane.

“Townsend,” Jane smiles and holds out her hand. “It's good to see you again, Jake.”

“Thank you, Ms. Townsend,” Jake smiles, shaking hands. “It's good to see you too. It's been a while. I was just asking Catherine if you still make those gingerbread biscuits at Christmas time. I still remember how delicious they were.”

Jane laughs. “That's right. You loved them. I used to have to make extra just for you. I'd forgotten about that.”

“Dad, Dad!” Just then Graham appears at the front door and sprints toward them. “Did _you_ do that? It's totally, completely incredible!”

“Oh, bugger,” Harry murmurs and turns toward the rapidly approaching Graham.

“What?” Jane and Catherine ask simultaneously.

“Oh, Mum, Catherine, you _have_ to come see my room!” Graham exclaims and throws himself at his father. “Thank you, Dad. Thank you.”

“You're welcome, Son,” Harry grins, returning the embrace and patting his back affectionately.

“What's going on?” Catherine demands.

“Come see,” Graham replies and grabs her hand to pull her towards the house. “Come on, Mum,” he calls back as he drags his sister towards the front door.

“I take it he's seen his room,” Jake smiles.

“Yes,” Harry nods and then adds as an afterthought, “you're welcome to come in and see it yourself. After all, you did help prime the walls.”

“Thank you, Mr. Pearce,” Jake grins and turns to follow Harry inside.

Harry grabs the camera from the hall table as he passes and follows the others upstairs.

“Dad!” Catherine's voice greets him as he approaches the room. “This is so very _cool_.”

“It's wonderful, Harry,” Jane adds, her voice conveying her astonishment and pleasure at the sight.

“Wow, Mr. Pearce,” Jake adds. “This is truly a work of art.”

“Thank you, all of you,” Harry replies, feeling uncomfortable, “but I cannot take credit for it all. I just did most of the labour. Ruth came up with the idea and the design. Now, I need to get your picture, Graham. I promised her I would because she couldn't be here to see your reaction.”

Graham steps up to the knight on the wall and grins as Harry takes his picture.

“Ruth, did this?” Catherine asks in awe. “She's truly amazing, Dad.”

“I know,” Harry replies without thinking. Then realising what he's said, he hastily adds, “Graham told her he didn't like the space theme on his walls any more, so she suggested that I might want to change it to give me something to do while I recovered from my injuries. She did most of the drawing as she's much better at it than I am. Jake here helped me move the furniture and prime the walls.”

Graham and Jane thank Jake, and Catherine looks pleased by this news and gives Jake a warm smile, the only reward the lad needs. He grins back, and though part of Harry is pleased that everyone's attention has shifted from his remark about Ruth to something else, the rest of him isn't happy that his information has raised Jake in his daughter's estimation. Whatever logic might say, Catherine's his little girl, and he's not happy about her growing up and being the object of boys' attentions. He needs to talk to Ruth, he thinks. She'll know just want to say to calm him down. He glances at his watch to see how long he has to wait for her to come home, but something Catherine says catches his attention and almost sends him into cardiac arrest. “Do you want to see my room?” she asks Jake. Harry feels his blood pressure rise, but before he can react he hears Jane say, “Perhaps another time, Catherine. It's almost tea time, and I expect, Jake needs to go home.”

“Yes, I do,” Jake nods. “It was lovely to see you all and thank you, Mr. Pearce, for allowing me to see Graham's room now that it's finished. It's great.” He says goodbye to everyone and they all go downstairs to see him out.

Once he's gone, both Catherine and Graham return to their rooms to unpack and Harry turns to Jane saying, “Thank you, Jane.”

“You're welcome,” she smiles. “After the effort you put into that room, I didn't want you to ruin the weekend before it had even begun. You looked like you were about to throttle our daughter.”

“In all seriousness,” he mutters darkly, “it did cross my mind. What in hell's name was she thinking? I don't know how you cope with it everyday, Jane. Truly I don't.”

“Keep calm and carry on, Harry,” she grins making him chuckle. “You must have some patience yourself given your chosen profession, Harry. You must be able to control your anger when you're undercover.”

“That's different,” he replies. “I'm not Harry Pearce when I'm undercover.”

“Perhaps that's your solution then,” she suggests.

“Perhaps,” he shrugs and changes the subject. “Would you like to stay for dinner, Jane?” She looks surprised at the invitation and he adds quickly, “I've cooked. It's Shepard’s pie.”

“In that case, I'd love to,” she smiles. “If memory serves, that was always one of your best dishes.”

“Thank you,” he murmurs and turns toward the kitchen, feeling suddenly awkward. “Wine?” he asks to cover his embarrassment.

“Maybe a small glass. I'm driving,” she says and follows him through to the kitchen. As they enter the room, they hear a scratching at the back door. “What's that?” Jane asks.

“My dog, Aella,” Harry sighs and goes to open the door for her.

“My word, Harry!” Jane exclaims as the puppy enters the room and rushes up to her to make friends. “You're outdoing yourself today. What on earth's got into you? You're suddenly so... domestic. If I'd known that a broken leg and collarbone would have effected such a transformation, I might have been tempted to plant a bomb under your car long ago.”

Harry's unsure of how to react to such a statement of simultaneous praise and condemnation so he just ignores it, placing the food and water for Aella on the floor. “Here you go, girl,” he says quietly and the dog rushes over and gives a grateful little bark before tucking in.

“I'm sorry, Harry,” Jane murmurs quietly. “That was uncalled for.”

“It's okay, Jane,” he assures her as he turns to open the cupboard to get the glasses. When he turns back around, he finds Jane watching him thoughtfully. “What?” he asks a little apprehensively.

“Nothing,” she mutters, shaking her head and lowering her eyes. He watches her for a moment more, and as she looks up at him and their gazes meet, he sees a look of determination appear in her eyes before she adds, “It's just surprisingly hard to accept that this transformation we all see in you is a result of the influence of another woman.” His gaze turns weary and she hastens to add, “Sorry, I didn't mean that to sound so bitter. It really is none of my business now, and I truly have no desire to go back; I love Simon and he's wonderful for me. I suppose I'm just feeling a little sorry that we couldn't give each other what we needed while we were together.” He nods silently and she adds with a mischievous smile, “I confess that my ego is also a little bruised by the fact that I wasn't able to reach you in over a decade of trying, and Ruth has managed to do it in less than a month.”

“Jane-”

“No, it's okay, Harry. You don't need to explain. None of us can help who we fall in love with, and I will never consider the years we spent together a waste of time, painful though they were at times. If nothing else, we made two wonderful children together.”

“And had lots of fun trying, at least the first time round,” he adds with a wry smile in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“Indeed,” she laughs as happy to take refuge in humour as he is. Harry could always make her laugh. It was one of the things that had drawn her to him in the first place and what, she believes, held them together long after they should have fallen apart.

“I did love you, Jane,” he murmurs quietly after a moment.

“I know, Harry. I loved you too. Just not with the same depth of feeling as we love our current partners.”

“No,” Harry shakes his head. “Nowhere near the same.”

“Would you leave the service for her?” Jane suddenly asks.

Harry pauses for a moment, thinking about her question and how to answer it. “I don't believe she'd ever ask me to do that,” he says eventually.

Jane just nods, though he can tell that she's not convinced. Suddenly feeling a little uneasy again, he excuses himself to go to the pantry to find a bottle of red wine. When he re-enters the kitchen, Jane's already setting the table for dinner. He pauses in the doorway as his brain tries to process this. It feels so odd and yet familiar at the same time, like deja vu but different.

She looks up at him, and must notice the odd expression on his face, because she says, “Everything's exactly where it used to be, Harry.”

“It seemed a little stupid to move everything and have to re-learn where I keep it all,” he shrugs trying to get rid of his feeling of unease. Perhaps this was a bad idea, he thinks.

She nods and he walks over to the counter to open the wine and pour them each a glass. He hands Jane her glass and she sits down at the table. He checks the food and comes over to sit, pulling off his crutch before sitting down.

“That's a clever design,” Jane comments. “I don't think I've ever seen that before.”

“It was specially made,” Harry replies.

“Whoever made it should patent it,” Jane says.

“I'll suggest it.”

There's a brief silence and Harry feels his anxiety increase. “This feels rather odd, doesn't it?” Jane asks and he nods.

“The food will be ready soon,” he volunteers.

An awkward silence descends on them while they both try to think of something to talk about, the memory of the openness of a few moments ago making them both suddenly feel uncomfortable. Harry takes another sip of his wine and eventually asks about his children. They talk for a little while about them, and Harry's pleased to hear that they're both doing well in school. Graham had been struggling a little, but it seems that in the last month he's been doing better.

“It seems to be a result of his last visit with you,” Jane confides after a moment's hesitation. There's a short silence before she continues, “I know that I have been very critical of you in the past, Harry, and for that, I'm sorry. I thought that I was doing a good job of not letting my resentment of your behaviour towards me influence your relationship with the children, but I can see now that I wasn't. And although I can't say I've forgiven you for all you did, I can see that you're trying hard with them now and that they need you, especially Graham. I'm sure the anxiety he's been suffering from over the last few years is related to the divorce and losing contact with you. Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that I am happy for you to have them to stay whenever you're able and willing. It's good for them and good for me too. I enjoy the time I get to myself, and having happier children makes parenting them the rest of the time so much easier.”

“Thank you, Jane,” Harry replies after a moment. “I'd like to have them to stay when I can. And for the record, it wasn't just you. I didn't make enough effort to see them before and I realise now that I should have tried harder. I promise I'll do my best to see them more often. I actually enjoy being with them very-”

“Dad!” Catherine's voice sounds on the stairs, and moments later, she enters the kitchen carrying the puppy. “You got a dog?!”

“Ah, yes,” Harry smiles. “Her name's Aella. Someone at work found her in an abandoned building so I took her in.”

“She's adorable, Dad,” Catherine smiles and scratches the dog's ears.

“Right,” Harry says getting up. “Dinner. Call your brother please, Catherine.”

“Graham!” Catherine yells, making Jane and Harry wince.

“I didn't mean shout at the top of your lungs, Catherine,” Harry mutters. “I could have done that myself.”

“Sorry,” Catherine smiles as they hear Graham's rapid footfalls on the stairs.

“Is it ready?” he asks as he steps into the kitchen. “I'm starving. Hey! Whose dog is this?”

“Dad's,” Catherine smiles. “Isn't she wonderful?”

“Wow, Dad!” Graham exclaims. “Has Christmas come early this year or something?”

“It certainly looks like it,” Jane smiles.

“Perhaps Dad's making up for the last four years worth of Christmases he's missed,” Catherine teases.

“Well, it's working,” Graham grins, seeing the hurt flicker across his father's face. He's always been the peace maker of the family, Harry thinks as he smiles at him. Always trying to cheer everyone up even though he's frequently sad himself. That's what Ruth said and she's right. They need to keep a closer eye on him because he hides his true emotions so well. Catherine has always been transparent when it comes to emotions; just like her mother. But Graham's like him, able to hide his true feelings from the world very effectively. However, whereas Harry hides behind a mask of indifference, Graham hides behind a mask of cheerfulness, which in many ways is harder to see through. He would make a good spook, he thinks, and though he doesn't wish either of his children to follow in his footsteps, he does feel some pride at the thought.

“All right,” he says, snapping out of his reverie, “wash your hands and come to eat.” Then he begins to serve dinner.


	22. Chapter 22

_Wednesday, September 5 th, 1984_

_Harry's House_

 

“Catherine?” Harry says softly as he spies his daughter walking past the door.

She peers into the room and smiles. “I'm just going to get some water,” she explains.

“Can't sleep?” he asks, concerned.

“I never fall asleep easily,” she shrugs.

“Come sit with me a bit,” he invites.

“All right,” she smiles and enters the room, making her way over to the sofa where she sits down and grabs the blanket she sees lying there to cover herself.

“Would you like a drink?” he offers. Catherine's eyebrows shoot up as she looks at him in surprise. “I meant a non-alcoholic one, Catherine,” he clarifies with a frown.

“Oh,” she smiles sheepishly. “What kind do you have?”

“Well,” Harry murmurs, “I think Ruth bought some Ribena and Lemon Squash, but I could also make you a hot chocolate or some tea?”

She looks surprised at his offer. “I'd love a hot chocolate, but I'm afraid that won't help me sleep. Perhaps some warm milk with honey?”

“Okay,” he nods. “I'll be right back.” He sets aside his whisky and the book he's been reading, and getting up, he goes to the kitchen.

He returns shortly with her drink and places it on a coaster on the coffee table. “Thank you, Dad,” Catherine smiles. Harry nods and sits down in the arm chair again. “Ruth's not back yet?” she asks as she takes a sip of the milk.

“Not, yet. She'll be back in a hour or so,” he replies. There's silence for a few moments and then he adds, “About Ruth...” He pauses unsure of how to phrase this.

“You're dating her, aren't you?” Catherine asks.

He frowns, surprised by her statement and immensely grateful that she used such an innocuous word to describe his relationship with Ruth, unlike the last time she'd accused him of sleeping with her. “Yes,” he confirms.

“It's okay, Dad,” she replies, sensing his unease. “I like her. It's fine. Just don't screw it up, okay? She's really nice and she doesn't deserve that.”

Harry stares at her, surprised not only by the fact that Catherine apparently doesn't mind, but by the maturity in her voice and the fact that she's warning him, presumably, not to cheat on Ruth. His daughter is now lecturing him on how to behave.

Seeing her father's dumbfounded expression, Catherine adds, “There's no need to look so surprised. She pretty much told me she's in love with you, and it's fairly obvious that you and Graham are infatuated with her. I know you and Mum aren't going to get back together, and I've realised that it's stupid to keep hoping that you will. Mum's going to marry Simon and I need to grow up and accept it. And besides, she's happy; happier than she has been in a while. And you need someone too and Ruth's good for you. You're happy. I don't remember you ever being happy, Dad. I like it. It suits you.”

“Thank you,” he murmurs and glances down at his drink, completely floored by his daughter's maturity. This is the same child, who a few weeks ago called Ruth one of his bitches, threw a tantrum to rival that of a three-year-old, and only a few hours ago, asked a boy to 'come see her room' without any apparent understanding of why this wasn't acceptable. Teenagers, he decides as he attempts and fails to comprehend this apparent discrepancy in his daughter's behaviour, are the most baffling and contradictory people, and he thanks his lucky stars that he's chosen a career that involves dealing with terrorists and not adolescents. When he returns his gaze to Catherine, she's looking at him intently. “What?” 

“And you won't do anything stupid, right?” she asks.

“No, Catherine,” he shakes his head and can't help smiling at the way their roles seem to have been temporarily reversed. “I won't do anything stupid. Don't worry; I learn from my mistakes.”

“Good,” Catherine smiles and turns back to her milk.

A silence settles over them and they sip their drinks contentedly.

“Catherine?” he says after a bit as he plucks up his courage to tackle the problem that arose earlier today. If Catherine has the courage to give him relationship advise, he's sure as hell not going to shy away from doing his duty as her father.

“Mmm?” she murmurs, turning to look at him.

“I know your mother's probably talked to you about this,” Harry begins, “but I wanted to mention it too.” He pauses, not quite sure how to proceed from here.

Seeing his hesitation, Catherine jokes, “Oh, no. This isn't a talk about the birds and the bees, is it?”

“Actually,” Harry smiles, “in a way, it is.”

Catherine groans. “It's okay, Dad. I know how it works. You don't have to. Mum told me.”

“I'm glad to hear it,” Harry replies, refusing to be deterred. Following Jane's advise, which feels rather odd, he's decided to put on his Grid persona to deal with this issue. “However, I have a perspective that is quite different from your mother's, and I think it would benefit you to hear it. After all, though it may seem hard to believe, I was once a teenage boy and can recall vividly what it felt like.”

Catherine rolls her eyes but resigns herself to hearing what her father has to say. To tell the truth, she's just a little curious to see how he'll handle this, and he's doing much better than she'd anticipated. So she stares down at her mug and prepares to listen to what he has to say.

“I won't tell you that young men have one things on their mind all the time,” he begins, “because it's simply not true. Most teenage boys _do_ want to develop a caring relationship with a girl and it's not all about the sex. However, they do think about sex a lot. When I was fifteen I think, I heard someone say that sex is all boys ever think about, so I counted how many times I thought about it in an hour, just to prove them wrong. I was actually quite shocked to find that it averaged at more than once every minute.”

“Really?!” Catherine can't help saying and looking up at him in surprise.

“Really. Now that was just me at that particular time in my life, but I don't think I was that different from my mates. Of course, back then,” he continues and adds with a wry smile, making his daughter laugh, “in the dark ages, it was quite hard to find the opportunity to act on our desires; we had much less freedom to date. Though I found this immensely frustrating at the time, in retrospect, it was probably a good thing. Intimacy between people needs to be built in stages, but we're not ready for all of them at the same age.” He looks at his daughter to see if she understands. She's frowning at him so he tries to explain further. “Just because you might be physically ready for some things, it doesn't mean that you're mentally or emotionally ready for them, and that doesn't even take into account being prepared for the consequences of your actions.”

“Daaad,” Catherine objects, finding this subject suddenly much more uncomfortable to talk about. “Stop. I'm not...” she tails off and looks down at her hands with a blush.

“I'm glad to hear it,” he nods. “The reason I'm bringing this up is that you invited Jake to your room today, and I wanted you to understand why you're not allowed to do so in my house, or your mother's, or anyone else's for that matter.”

“But, Dad,” she replies, lifting her eyes to his as her temper flares, “I didn't intend to... to...”

“I know that, Catherine,” Harry soothes, “but it gives the wrong signal to Jake.” She opens her mouth to speak but he raises his hand and ploughs on, “Let me finish. The best way I can describe it is that it's like inviting a three-year-old to an ice cream shop without intending to buy him an ice cream. The expectation is there, regardless of what logic might say. Do you see what I mean?” Catherine nods reluctantly, frowning as she thinks over what he's saying. “Stick to public places until you're old enough for more intimate settings,” he concludes in an attempt to curtail the discussion before they sail any further into uncharted territory. He's rather proud of how well this discussion has gone so far and doesn't want to tempt fate any more than strictly necessary.

“ _Public_ places?!” she demands indignantly. “Dad, you can't have an intimate  conversation in a public place. And what if you want to hold hands, or... or kiss?”

He raises his eyebrows at her and struggles momentarily to keep his calm, cool exterior intact. This is his little girl talking about _kissing_ and presumably _touching_ a boy. He pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to focus his attention on the subject in hand and not let his imagination run wild with it. “If privacy is required for a _small_ length of time, it would be best to find it somewhere other than a bedroom, Catherine. We have a large back garden, we have this room, the dinning room, the kitchen. There are places that can be private but which are simultaneously public, as in someone could walk in at any moment.” He looks at her pointedly before getting up to refill his empty whisky glass, signalling the end of the discussion.

There is silence for a few moments as they both sip their drinks, a sudden awkwardness settling between them. Both feel like they've shared a little too much with each other. Harry watches Catherine surreptitiously out of the corner of his eye and can tell that she's working up to say something. He braces himself for her next words, sensing that they're going to test his patience and control even further. “So can I ask Jake over tomorrow?” she asks eventually in a quiet voice as she glances at him quickly before returning her eyes to her drink.

His nose flares a little, but otherwise his face remains impassive, hiding his emotions very effectively. After a moment, he opens his mouth to speak, but just then, they hear the front door open, and he's spared the necessity of answering as, a few moments later, Ruth pops her head in the doorway and greets them with a smile. “Hello, Catherine,” she says. “I didn't expect you to be up. How are you?”

“Hi, Ruth,” Catherine smiles, relieved to have her tête-à-tête with her father interrupted. She gets up and gives her a warm hug. “I couldn't sleep. Dad made me some warm milk.”

“That was nice of him,” Ruth smiles and Catherine nods.

“I'd better get back to bed,” she replies. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Catherine,” Ruth and Harry reply almost simultaneously and watch her mount the stairs. When she disappears, Harry steps behind Ruth and embraces her, pulling her against his chest and kissing her hair. Ruth sighs and relaxes into his embrace for a moment.

“You're early,” Harry murmurs and watches her nod as she stifles a yawn. “Tough day?”

“No more than usual,” she answers. “I heard an interesting rumour today from a contact at our sister agency though. Apparently, Reynolds might be moving over to Six to replace Stevenson who's retiring at the end of the year.”

“Really,” he murmurs thoughtfully. “Interesting.”

“Anyway,” she replies, “I'm starving. Is there anything to eat?”

“Yes,” he nods, releasing her and moving toward the kitchen. “Shepard’s pie.”

“Sounds delicious,” she smiles and follows him into the room where she's greeted by a very excited puppy. “Hello, Aella,” she says as she fusses over her. Then she takes a seat at the table at Harry's insistence while he serves her dinner. “So what did Graham think of his room?”

“Oh, he loved it,” Harry smiles as he takes a seat beside her. “Couldn't stop grinning all evening. What with that and Aella, the children were under the impression that Christmas had come early.”

Ruth laughs and says, “You realise that we'll have to paint Catherine's room now, don't you? I thought that she might like to help.” Harry groans and she adds, “None of that now, Harry. You don't want to be accused of favouritism do you?”

“Can't it wait until next time?” he grumbles.

“Nope. Catherine and I will sort it out and let you know when you're needed to paint.”

“Fine,” he sighs in resignation.

“I guess I'll have to move in with you tomorrow then,” she smiles and watches as his face lights up. “Catherine will have to sleep in the guest room while we redecorate.” He grins and she adds, “See? I knew you'd warm to the idea.”

“You're quite right, Ruth,” he chuckles. “It's a brilliant idea.”

“All we have to do now is tell Graham and Catherine about us.”

“Catherine knows,” he admits, “and she's pleased about it.”

“That's good,” Ruth smiles in relief. “You had a little tête-à-tête, did you?”

“You would have been proud of me,” he replies. “I managed to give some fatherly advise in a calm, collected manner.”

“What advise was that then?”

“Don't invite boys to your room advise,” he grimaces.

“Really?” she asks incredulously. “What prompted that discussion?”

“She invited Jake to 'come see her room',” he sighs. Ruth laughs. “It's not a laughing matter, Ruth,” he frowns.

“Sorry,” she replies. “I was laughing because it's going to be an interesting weekend if Catherine's taken a shine to Jake. I assume the interest is mutual?”

“Yes,” he nods. “Unfortunately it is.”

“Oh, come on, Harry. Don't be such a prude. It's perfectly natural and Jake seems like a nice boy. At least she's not going for the dangerous types,” she replies, and leaning closer to him, adds with a mischievous smile, “Unlike me, for instance.”

He smiles at her playful remark and murmurs, “And I fall into the dangerous type category, do I, Ruth?”

“Most definitely,” she answers. “You're a spy, Harry. That makes you dangerous by definition.”

“So what's the attraction then?” he asks with interest.

“Well, seeing as you're the first dangerous man I've ever fallen in love with, it can't really be the danger. It must be your soft hearted core and your strong moral code and integrity that have captured my heart.”

“I don't know about that, Ruth,” he murmurs uncomfortably, lowering his gaze. “I don't think many people would agree that I have those qualities.”

“That's because you keep them well hidden from the world. Don't get me wrong; I know that you can be a hard, ruthless bastard when necessary, but I also know that you do your best to stick to the high moral ground even though the nature of what we do makes it impossible to avoid having to compromise sometimes and do dark deeds. And I, for one, think that makes you a pretty amazing man.” He nods in acceptance, though he feels unworthy of her praise given the things he's had to do in the past. “I _have_ read your file, Harry,” she murmurs, sensing his reluctance to accept what she's saying.

He looks at her in surprise for a moment and then smiles, “I don't know why I'm surprised, Ruth.”

“It's a nasty habit I have,” she shrugs, “digging up information I shouldn't.” He watches her intently for a few moments, making her blush under his scrutiny. “What?” she asks eventually when she can't stand it any more.

“I'm just unable to comprehend how I could be so lucky to find you, probably the only woman in the world, who could read my file, know what I've done, and still want to be near me, still believe in me, still love me. I just...” he tails off, shaking his head in disbelief.

“I know you're a good man, Harry. I can feel it. You care about this country and its citizens, and you're willing to sacrifice pretty much everything you have for their benefit; you're chivalrous and brave, and a very complex man that's constantly surprising me. Add to that your gorgeous eyes, your soft lips and sexy smile, not to mention the fact that you're a fantastic lover, and you have me hooked. No other man stands a chance.”

He smiles, a broad, genuine smile and reaches across the table for her hand. Slowly he runs his thumb over her knuckles as he brushes his fingertips across her palm, sending shivers running up her spine and making her breathing hitch and her eyes darken. Her eyes drift closed and she sighs in satisfaction as she lets him caress her hand and feels the heat of desire pool in her abdomen. Moments later she feels his hot breath on her cheek and hears him whisper near her ear. “If you can call me a _fantastic_ lover when I'm hampered by my present injuries, Ruth, what will you think of my abilities once I'm in perfect working order again, I wonder. Exceptional? Outstanding? Sterling? Magnificent? Transcendent? _Supreme?_ ”

Ruth groans, and unable to bear it any longer, she swiftly turns her face towards him and captures his lips in a hot, searing kiss. When they come up for air, she's straddling him as he sits on the kitchen chair with her fingers tangled in his hair and her forehead resting lightly against his as she struggles to calm her breathing and heart rate. “I shouldn't tell you these things,” she murmurs as a smile tugs at her lips. “It only makes you insufferable. I'm convinced that you won't be able to get through the kitchen door now, your head is so big.”

“Just as long as I can still bury it inside you,” Harry grins, “I couldn't care less.”

“ _Harry!_ ” she exclaims and slaps his shoulder in indignation. “You're appalling.”

“Ow!” he complains. “That's my injured side. If you must, at least slap the other one.”

“Sorry,” she apologises as her eyes soften and she leans over to kiss it better. “Better?”

“Yes,” he smiles, “but I think you missed a spot.”

“U-uh,” she shakes her head. “That's not going to work. Come on, it's bed time. I'm shattered.”

“Just one more kiss?” he pleads, but she shakes her head and gets up, taking the dishes to the sink and beginning to quickly wash them up. Harry sighs, and getting up too, he puts away the food and helps her dry the dishes before they check on the dog, lock up the house, and make their way upstairs. “Are you...?” he whispers and nods towards his door.

“Only if you promise to behave yourself,” she replies.

“I promise,” he smiles. “I'll behave, but in any case,” he adds with a grin, “I can be very quiet when necessary, Ruth.” She glares at him, making him chuckle. “You're so easy,” he murmurs. “I'm just teasing. We agreed we'd wait until we're alone again and I intend to stick to our bargain, even if it's only to prove that I can.” He winks at her and turns towards his room, leaving her to follow after she's changed for bed.

 


	23. Chapter 23

_Thursday, September 6 th, 1984_

_Harry's House_

 

Ruth rubs her eyes sleepily and rolls over towards Harry, but his side of the bed is empty. Stifling a yawn, she glances at the clock and discovers it's past eight. No wonder, she thinks, he's probably been up for hours. Sighing heavily as she realises that it’s high time she was up too, she silently counts to three before forcing herself to sit up. Swinging her feet onto the floor before she has a change to reconsider and succumb to the temptation of her warm bed, she stands and stretches. Then walking across the room to the door and opening it, she steps into the corridor and pulls it closed behind her.

“Ruth?” Graham's uncertain voice greets her.

She turns towards him and smiles. “Good morning, Graham. It's good to see you.”

“Morning,” he murmurs and hesitates, seemingly unsure of what to do next.

Ruth walks over to him and gives him a hug, which he returns quickly before mumbling something about getting dressed and going back into his room. Ruth frowns for a moment, puzzled by his behaviour, until her still sluggish brain catches up with the situation. Then she sighs. Graham just caught her coming out of Harry's room in her pyjamas at eight in the morning. No wonder the poor kid was confused and unsure of what to do. Oh, well, at least they don't have to worry about telling him any more. Sighing once more, she turns towards her room to shower and get dressed.

By the time she's ready to go downstairs for breakfast, she feels much better. She's already thrown all her little bits and pieces into her small suitcase, so all she has to do is change the sheets in the guest room, take her clothes from her wardrobe to Harry's, and unpack her suitcase again.

She makes her way downstairs and walks into the kitchen, smiling. “Good morning,” she greets everyone. “That smells delicious.”

“Morning, Ruth,” Catherine smiles. “It's apple, cinnamon pancakes.”

“Wow! Did you make them?” Ruth asks in surprise.

“Yes,” Catherine beams. “Mum taught me.”

“That's great, Catherine. Thank you.”

“My pleasure. Help yourself.”

Ruth turns towards the table and smiles at Harry and Graham. “Morning,” she says.

“Good morning, Ruth,” Harry grins.

Graham mumbles a good morning greeting, but turns back to his pancake almost immediately. Harry glances at him curiously for a moment before he turns back to Ruth, his eyes silently asking what's wrong.

“Anyone else want some tea?” Ruth asks as she moves over to the counter to flick the kettle on.

No one does, so she busies herself making tea and surreptitiously picks up a pen and scrap of paper to write a note to Harry. Once the tea's ready, she makes her way over to the table, and as she passes Harry's spot, she slides her hand across his shoulders. Surprised, he looks up. “Good morning,” Ruth smiles and kisses his cheek as her hand slides into his, pressing the note into his palm.

“Hi,” he replies. He watches her take a seat at the table and dig into the pancakes, expressing her appreciation for them with great enthusiasm. He smiles and surreptitiously looks down at the note in his hand. 'Caught me coming out of your room this morning,' it says. So Graham knows, and as he anticipated, he's not happy about it.

“So, what's the plan for today?” Catherine asks.

Ruth gives Harry a meaningful look and he takes the hint. “Well,” he says, “how would you like it if we redecorated your room, Catherine?”

“Really?” she replies eagerly, turning her sparkling eyes on him. “Do you mean that, Dad?”

“Yes,” he smiles, suddenly more than willing to go through with this plan now that he can see how much happiness it brings his daughter. “It seems only fair. You and Ruth could work up some design and we could all help with the painting.” Ruth nudges his knee with her own and he sighs. “We could even ask Jake if he'd like to give us a hand,” he adds grudgingly.

“Thanks, Dad,” Catherine beams and comes over to give him a hug. “I'd love to redecorate my room.”

“Good,” Harry smiles. “Then I'll leave you and Ruth to sort it all out this morning. Ruth you have the morning off again?”

“Yes,” she sighs, “I have a night shift tonight. But on the bright side, I have the whole of tomorrow off.”

“All right,” Harry nods. “Graham, would you like to take Aella for a walk with me this morning?”

“Sure, Dad,” he agrees quietly.

“Right. That's sorted then,” Harry says, and getting up, he begins to clear the table and get ready to wash up. Graham volunteers to help him and they begin, Graham washing and Harry drying the dishes. Ruth and Catherine excuse themselves and go to Catherine's room where they spend the next hour or so discussing designs and drawing plans for their project.

In the meantime, Harry and Graham finish the washing up and get ready to go out with Aella. The puppy's thrilled to be outside and doesn't stop rushing about, dragging Graham by her lead as she explores her surroundings with great enthusiasm. Graham enjoys her exuberance, and by the time they reach the park, he's smiling and laughing again, much to Harry's relief.

“Can I take her off the lead, Dad?” he asks once they're inside the park.

“No, I'm afraid not,” Harry replies. “She hasn't learned to come when called yet. We've only had her a few days.”

“Okay,” Graham smiles and turns to Aella. “Come on, Aella, let's run,” he says and takes off across the grassy expanse before them with Aella by his side, barking delightedly.

Harry smiles and walks over to a bench where he sits down to watch them. There is no particular point in talking to Graham about his relationship with Ruth, he's decided. The kid's just disappointed and will get over it soon enough. All they can do is behave normally towards him, giving him lots of love and attention while he's here. After all, it's just the first of many times that he's going to be crossed in love, he thinks and smiles. He'll be in his teens soon. As he watches his son run with his dog, he wonders where the time went. He still remembers holding him in his arms as a small, happy, gurgling baby. He'd had so many hopes for himself and his young family back then. He remembers dreaming of teaching Graham cricket and football, but by the time Graham had been old enough, he'd already distanced himself from his family and thrown himself into his work and his career. At times like this, he wonders if he did the right thing, if it had been worth it. Perhaps it isn't too late to make up for the mistakes he's made, the lost opportunities. Since Ruth came back into his life, he's wanted to be a better man, a better father, a better partner, a better lover. He's determined to try to turn things round and be there for all of them, his children, Ruth, and the country.

As Graham rushes up to him with Aella, he calls out, “Hey, Graham? Do you want to toss a cricket ball?”

“Sure,” he smiles. “Do you have one with you?”

“I always have a cricket ball in my pocket, Son,” he smiles.

“All right,” Graham grins, “but are you sure you can manage with all those handicaps?”

“You have the biggest handicap,” Harry replies, and at Graham's puzzled frown, he indicates the dog. “You're going to have to fight her for the ball every time while I only have to deal with limited movement and one good arm.”

“All right, you're on,” Graham laughs and they begin to play.


	24. Chapter 24

_Thursday, September 6 th, 1984_

_Harry's House_

 

The rest of the day passes quickly and pleasantly. Most of the morning is taken up with moving things about, Ruth's stuff into Harry's room, much to his very great delight, Catherine's into the guest room, and Catherine's furniture into the middle of her room. Harry keeps a close eye on Graham, but he seems to be doing fine now, even though everything at the moment is focused around his sister. He's behaving normally again around Ruth, and she's making sure that he gets as much, if not more, of her attention than he did during his last visit.

After lunch, they all go out to the D.I.Y. shop to get paint and more tools to accommodate the larger number of people who'll be painting, and on the way back, Harry suggests that they stop to rent a video.

They spend quite a bit of time finding a video they all like, but eventually they settle on “Star Wars: Return of the Jedi” as Harry refuses point blank to rent the latest James Bond film, “Octopussy”; he hates the man on principle. It doesn't help that James Bond reminds him of a part of his past that he would rather forget. He can still hear Jane's voice saying with some amusement after they'd settled in Belfast, “My own little James Bond. Although slightly shorter and prematurely balding.”

He'd been frustrated with his job in those first months of work for MI-5 as his assignments had been mind-numbingly boring, and it had been more hurtful than he'd like to admit to be teased like that by his then young and beautiful wife. Later, of course, things had changed, and during his secondment to Six, he'd had a taste of the freedom and elasticity of the rules that Bond thrives on. Initially he'd liked the change, but by the end of his secondment, he'd changed his mind and would never have considered moving across the river permanently. Both sister services defend British interest, but whereas British interests at home are clearly defined, abroad they are ever changing and subject to individual interpretation as he'd discovered to his cost. It had been much harder for him to stick to the moral high ground out there, and he'd found out fairly quickly that he didn't do well in that environment, not only on a professional level, but also on a personal one. It had been during his time abroad that he'd had his first affair, another thing he wishes he could forget.

So on the way home, when his children ask him why he doesn't like Bond, he feels a stab of guilt and pain as these memories resurface. He pushes them away swiftly, however, and replies that James Bond is nothing like real spying. When they ask what it's really like, he tells them that it's hard work, with most of the time spent working long hours doing paperwork, routine surveillance, and boring assignments.

“But, Dad,” Catherine objects, “you were nearly killed in a bomb blast just last week!”

“Well, occasionally, and if we're really lucky and very good,” Harry smiles, knowing he's been caught out, but pleased by his daughter's quick mind, “we get to do something exciting, and if we're even luckier, we survive and live to tell the tale. But I can tell you that, if I tried to pull one of the stunts James Bond does in his films and go in blind without backup, I'd be dead before I could say knife.”

“Don't you ever get to kill anyone then?” Graham asks eagerly.

Surprised by the question and unable to come up with an acceptable answer that doesn't involve lying to his son, Harry's grateful for Ruth stepping in and saying with a frown, “I'm not sure that's something your father would _want_ to do, Graham.”

“Oh, no,” Graham hastily amends, realising that his tone of voice was a little too exited and eager. “It's just that James Bond has a licence to kill and I wanted to know if Dad has one too.”

“I don't,” Harry replies quickly and truthfully. There is no such thing as a licence to kill. “And neither does every mad man out there have gorgeous women at his beck and call who would like nothing more that to seduce me and attempt to kill me during sex, or throw me into a pit of snakes, or a pool of sharks, nor do I take advantage of every female asset who helps me in my investigations, or strut around declaring that my name is Harry, Harry Pearce,” he grumbles, making the rest of them laugh at the absurdity of the image.

Once they get home, Ruth gets ready to go to work while Graham sets up the video player and helps Harry make popcorn. Catherine has managed to get permission to ring Jake to see if he'd like to join them, and before long they've all, minus Ruth, taken seats in front of the TV – Harry in his arm chair, Jake and Catherine on the sofa, and Graham on a pile of cushions on the floor with a contented Aella curled up against his side. Soon they're all engrossed in the film, though Harry notices that his daughter and Jake are sufficiently aware of each other to be holding hands. He struggles with this for a moment before reluctantly accepting defeat. Perhaps Ruth and Jane are right; at least Jake is a nice boy who's always been respectful and kind hearted. Things could be so much worse if Catherine didn't have such good taste in boys. So hanging on to that small bit of comfort, he turns his attention back to the film.

 

* * *

 

Ruth's night on the Grid is slow, which in many ways is a good thing. Her time is taken up with doing some translating, preparing the threat assessment for the morning briefing, and helping Malcolm backstop Jason and Sarah's legends for an undercover operation that begins next week. She enjoys working alongside Malcolm as he's a very interesting and knowledgeable person if you get to know him. He's a bit of a snob, but he's such a kind hearted man, that it's easy to forgive him for it. They've been working away for half an hour before he suddenly says, “So how's Harry doing?”

“Oh, he's fine,” she smiles. “Catherine and Graham are visiting for a long weekend and we're busy redecorating Catherine's room.”

“That's good,” he nods. “Give him something to do.”

“Yes,” she agrees. “He's still planning on coming back into work, starting Monday, and I'm not even going to bother trying to talk him out of it. Really, it's a miracle he's stayed away this long.”

“That's your doing, I'm sure,” he replies as he turns back to his computer. “If you weren't there, he wouldn't be either.” There's silence for a little bit as they both turn back to their task, but then Malcolm clears his throat and murmurs softly, “About that, Ruth. Reynolds has noticed that your address hasn't been updated in your file and he's asked me to do that. I can delay for a few days, say until Monday, but I'm going to need it by then, or we'll both be in trouble. I realise this is a delicate matter, and if it's any help at all, I can always say you're staying at mine for a few weeks until you find a place, but-”

“Thank you, Malcolm,” she interrupts. “I'll talk to Harry about it. It's... um... I hadn't considered that... Thanks for the warning.” What on earth is she going to do?! The last thing she wants is for everyone to start gossiping about her and Harry, and after what happened just a few weeks ago with Jason and Lucas, she really doesn't think she could handle their hurt egos on top of everything else.

When she gets home late that night, Harry's already fast asleep, so she crawls in next to him, cuddling up to his right side, resting her hand on his shoulder, and closing her eyes, and despite her worries about work, she falls asleep quite quickly.

 


	25. Chapter 25

_Friday, September 7 th, 1984_

_Harry's House_

 

In the morning, she's the first to wake for a change. He looks so young and peaceful in sleep that she spends a while watching him. She can't believe how lucky she is, not only to have met him and found him again, but also because he feels as strongly about her as she does about him. They really seem to have been made for each other and that, more than anything, calms her and makes her realise that she'll brave anything to be with him. They have to tell everyone at work the truth and she'll just have to deal with the consequences, whatever they might be. If the worst comes to the worst, she'll just transfer to another section.

Feeling brave and ever so much in love, she leans forward and kisses his lips softly. His reaction is immediate, his eyes popping open with a quick indrawn breath. “Ruth,” he smiles as his gaze alights on her, his good arm swiftly wrapping around her and pulling her to him for another kiss that is knee-trembling in its intensity and passion, so much so that it takes her several moments to recover from it sufficiently to remember the children next door.

“Harry,” she gasps attempting to pull back, “we mustn't. The children.”

“Forget the children,” he murmurs between kisses as he moves his lips and tongue over her jaw and down her neck. “It's good for them to know that people my age still have sex.”

“Harry,” she almost squeaks, trying to sound severe but failing.

“I told you, Ruth,” he growls, his mouth closing over her right nipple as he pulls the neck of her nightdress down. “I can be very quiet. They won't hear a thing.” She whimpers, her mind clouding over by passion as she realises that she can't resist him. This, _he_ feels too damned good to stop. “Do you want me to stop?” he murmurs against her skin and then promptly renders her inarticulate by lapping at her nipple with his tongue.

“No,” she gasps, pulling him closer. “Don't stop.”

Their love making is incredibly intense and passionate as she begins to participate fully, letting go of her misgivings, wanting to make him feel as helplessly aroused as she does. They try to be quiet, but she's not sure they quite manage to pull it off, his deep groan of pleasure, when he finally comes, reverberating around the room, mingling with her own moans of heart-stopping bliss as she clings to him, her forehead dropping onto his shoulder as she slumps forward, against him.

“I love you,” he whispers a little hoarsely some time later.

“Mmmm,” she hums. “Me too.”

He shifts his weight under her, making her pull back, asking in concern, “Sorry. Am I hurting you? Your shoulder?”

“No,” he shakes his head gently, smiling softly at her. “It's just the pillows have shifted a little and the headboard is rather unforgiving against my spine. I can't wait until I can take you properly, Ruth, without these bloody injuries hampering my style.”

She smiles ruefully at that, helping him straighten the pillows behind his back as she confesses, “I can't wait for that either.”

“I'm going to have you in every single room of this house,” he growls in her ear, leaning forward and pulling her close again so that her body is flush against his, his mouth sucking on her earlobe before he continues, “in every possible way imaginable. I'm going to make you come so hard that you'll forget everything but me. I'm going to brand myself on you, Ruth, on your heart, your mind, your body, your soul, so that you never forget me and will be forever mine.”

She shivers in his arms. “That sounds… worryingly possessive, Harry,” she murmurs.

He pulls back to look at her. “I didn't mean it like that, Ruth,” he frowns. “I have no wish to possess you. You are a brilliant, beautiful, independent woman, and I love you. If you left me tomorrow, you'd break my heart, but I wouldn't stop you. I might grovel and beg, but ultimately, I'd let you go if that was what you truly wanted.”

She smiles, lifting her hand to softly stroke his cheek. Then she says, “We need to tell Reynolds about us.”

“What? Why?” he asks in surprise.

“He's asked for an updated phone number and address for me,” she explains.

He nods slowly, digesting this information for a moment before he asks, “And how do you feel about that? Telling Jack, I mean.”

“I'm a little… scared,” she confesses, dropping her gaze to his chest and beginning to stroke the fine, blonde hairs she finds there. “I'd rather wait a while before telling people at work, but I'm not sure why that is. I know this is what I want – being with you, I mean – and I'm pretty confident we can make it work and last long-term. We seem to have managed very well these past few weeks and I don't think that's just because we're in the honeymoon period. Most to the time we weren't even sleeping together and yet we still got on well. Plus I've been in love with you for years and I haven't been able to forget you or move on despite my best efforts. So really, I don't know why I'd want to keep it to ourselves. In a way, it's better to just get it over with… but I'm still scared.”

“I know _I'd_ like to shout it from the rooftops, Ruth, but if you need more time,” he replies carefully, “I can explain to Jack that you're staying in my guest room for the time being. I don't need to submit an S24 just yet.”

“No,” she shakes her head, lifting her gaze to his, his willingness to lie for her making her even more determined to be open about it at work, even if it means people get the wrong idea about her. “Let's submit the form when you return to work on Monday.”

He grins, his whole face lighting up with joy. “I love you,” he murmurs, pressing his lips against hers firmly and pulling back, still smiling. He can't seem to help himself. He's got Ruth's permission to tell the whole world that they're together. Well, maybe not the whole world exactly. That would be incredibly unwise given what they do for a living.

“Careful,” she warns playfully, delighted by the joy he's so obviously experiencing. “People might start to suspect that you're really a nice, cheerful man. Your reputation will be in ruins.”

“You're right,” he nods solemnly, schooling his features back into a mask of control. Then seeing her eyes twinkling at him still, he can't resist adding softly with a quick, wicked grin, “But I can't wait to see Jason and Lucas's faces when they find out.”

“Don't,” she protests, leaning forward and burying her face in his good shoulder. “Don't remind me of it. It's going to be _so_ embarrassing. They're all going to think such terrible things about me.” He chuckles, but before he can say anything in response, she adds, “Don't say it. I know it's my own fault. I should have known better and I'm sorry. Sorry for hunting you, and them, and for being so incredibly foolish.”

“It's all right, Ruth,” he reassures her, despite the twinge of jealousy and hurt he feels at the memory. “It's forgotten.”

“That's,” she begins, pulling back to look at him, “very big of you.”

He shrugs and smiles at her, murmuring, “I got the girl in the end and that's all that matters.”

 

* * *

 

The rest of the morning is spent painting and playing with the dog in the back garden. Jake is invited over to help and Harry orders pizza for lunch. With so many hands making light work of the painting, they decide to take the afternoon off and head to the park to enjoy the sun when it peaks out from behind the clouds for a little while. The good weather doesn't last long, however, and they're driven back indoors when the sky darkens once more and threatens rain.

“Let's go bowling,” Ruth suggests out of the blue then, so they all pile into Harry's car and drive to the local bowling alley where they get themselves sorted with shoes and balls and have a blast. Harry attempts to play, but quickly finds out it's not nearly as easy as it looks with a broken leg and collar bone, fancy crutch or no, so he has to be content with watching, attempting not to take sides as Catherine and Jake team up against Ruth and Graham and win easily. Graham seems rather disappointed by this, but soon cheers up when Ruth gives him a consolation hug and Harry praises his game.

“That was fun,” Ruth smiles when they get home.

“It was great!” Graham agrees as he jumps out of the car, his momentary disappointment forgotten.

“It really was,” Jake says politely. “Thank you for inviting me to come along, Mr. Pearce.”

“You're welcome, Jake,” Harry nods.

“I'd best be getting home or Gran will worry,” the boy adds. “Good night.”

“Good night, Jake,” Ruth smiles. “Come round tomorrow morning after breakfast if you'd like to give us a hand with finishing up the painting.”

“I'd love to,” he smiles and turns to face Catherine.

“I'll walk you to the gate,” she immediately volunteers, causing Harry to frown, but before he can say anything, Ruth slips her arm through his and firmly turns him towards the front door.

“Trust her,” she murmurs softly, so only he can hear. He doesn't like it, but he realises Ruth is right. Catherine's growing up fast and he needs to relax and step back a little, or he's going to destroy all the progress they've made over the last few weeks, and he doesn't want to go back to the way things were.

“Don't be long, Catherine,” he throws over his shoulder. “It's getting dark.”

“I won't,” she calls back, and as Ruth glances over her shoulder at them while Harry unlocks the front door, she sees Jake take her hand in his and Catherine smile shyly up at him.

 

* * *

 

“Jake seems nice,” Ruth says casually, later that evening as she and Catherine sit side by side on the sofa watching the TV though there doesn't seem to be much on that's worth watching. Harry and Graham are out walking the dog one last time before bedtime.

“Yeah,” she agrees, smiling softly.

“Your dad said he's been living next door for quite a while now,” she continues, hoping to get Catherine to talk a little about him. She doesn't want to press her into a confidence she doesn't want to share, but nor does she want to appear disinterested in Catherine's life. Plus she remembers from her own teenage years how difficult it was to discuss these kinds of things with her own mother, and she wants to make sure that Catherine knows she's available if she ever wants to confide in someone other than her parents.

“Yeah,” she nods this time, then adds thoughtfully. “I used to think him too serious and a bit boring. It's funny how people change.”

Ruth smiles. “They certainly do... as do we, of course, not to mention our perception of them. After losing his parents so young and being raised by his grandparents, it's not entirely surprising that Jake appears to be quite mature for his age. The carefree innocence of childhood would be hard to maintain under such tragic circumstances.”

“That's true,” she frowns. “He told me today that he has very few memories of his mum and dad. It must have been so sad for him growing up without them. I remember he never used to smile much or laugh. He must have missed them terribly. I feel so bad that I didn't try harder to be his friend back when we lived here.”

“Don't be too hard on yourself,” Ruth replies. “It's not always easy to see these things as a child.”

“Mum used to invite him over a lot and we used to play,” Catherine confesses, seemingly on a roll and perhaps needing to get it all off her chest, “and I remember complaining to her about that one day, saying he wasn't much fun and couldn't we invite my friend Maggie instead. She'd explained to me why Jake needed our compassion and friendship and I did try to be nice when he was over here, but I feel like I could have done so much more... I told him that today.”

“What did he say?” she asks curiously.

“He said he's always felt that we're good friends and can't remember me doing anything that had upset him or made him feel unwelcome. He's always felt welcome at our place,” Catherine replies.

“There you go then,” Ruth smiles. “It doesn't sound like you have anything to reproach yourself for.”

“No, I guess not,” she sighs and turns back to watching the TV.

“You really like him, don't you?” Ruth ventures after a bit, wanting to capitalise on the moment.

“Yes,” Catherine nods, blushing slightly. “He's great.”

“I remember the feeling,” Ruth smiles, then as Catherine turns to look at her with interest again, she confides, “His name was Adam Harper. He was two years above me in school and lived down the road from my mum's. He was tall and handsome with the most gorgeous dimples you ever saw. I was so in love that summer.”

“How old were you?” Catherine asks.

“Probably your age,” she replies, “perhaps a year older. He was the first boy I ever kissed.” Then she smiles and adds conspiratorially, “A lot!”

Catherine laughs at that but doesn't say anything, so they lapse back into silence.

“Were you…?” She ventures after a moment. “How old were you when you...” she tries again but tails off before she can complete the sentence.

“When I first had sex?” Ruth asks gently and watches as Catherine nods, lifting her eyes to look at her. “I was twenty one,” she replies, watching Catherine's face register surprise. “There was a time when I was sixteen, when I decided I wanted to find out what the fuss was all about and I believed I was ready. It seemed like everyone around me was doing it, all my friends were talking about it, and then I met a charming guy at a party – his name was Jon - and we went out a few times. He was older than me and had a car, which was a big deal at the time. But while I was seeing him and working up the courage to go all the way, one of my friends confided in me about her first time and after that, I decided that I'd rather wait until the right person came along.”

“What happened to her?” Catherine asks with concern.

“It wasn't anything terrible,” Ruth is quick to reassure her. “It was a bit painful and rushed and awkward and just not very good, and I'm sure she regretted that it happened like that. After I'd heard her story, I began to realise that I wanted my first time to be special and to feel fantastic. So I decided I'd wait and I've never regretted it.” She smiles at Catherine.

“But how do you know when it's the right time and you've found the right person?” Catherine asks.

“That's a tough question,” she admits. “I think it's different for each person. For some people it might be someone they've been dating for a long time and whom they love and trust, for others it might be someone they've just met who make them feel things they've never experienced before.”

“What was it for you?”

“I was on holiday,” Ruth confesses, trying hard not to think about the fact that she's talking about Harry to his teenage daughter! “I'd only just met him the day before and then we spent the day together on a yacht and it just felt… _right_ and special... I'd say that's the most important ingredient. The person, the relationship, or at the very least, the situation needs to feel special to you, and if you're not sure, then it's probably not the right time.” She smiles at Catherine again and watches her nod, giving her a brief smile of her own before they both fall silent again and turn back to absently watching the TV. It doesn't seem like Catherine has any more questions on the subject at the moment, but Ruth's glad they had this little chat and hopes that she'll feel free to come to her with any questions that might arise for her in the future.


	26. Chapter 26

_Monday, September 10 th, 1984_

_140 Gower Street_

 

By the time Monday comes around, Ruth's heart is feeling fuller than it has done in years. The weekend has been even more fun than the days leading up to it, and they've all had a wonderful time. The weather had cooperated and they'd taken a trip to the beach, played a lot of rather exuberant board games, went to the cinema, and generally had as good a time as was humanly possible. Harry had been very engaged with the children and seemed calmer and more content than she'd ever seen him. It had been a pleasure to watch, and when the children had gone home last night, had lead to one of the best nights of passion either of them had ever known.

They'd arrived together this morning in Harry's car that she'd driven, as she's been doing since he came home from the hospital, but no one seems to have thought anything of it. Perhaps it's because she's the newbie and, therefore, the person Harry would be most likely to ask for assistance, with him being Section Chief. Or perhaps they'd all been far too happy to have Harry back to notice or question whom he arrived with and why.

He'd been greeted very warmly by everyone, which had pleased him no end though, of course, he did his best to hide this from them all, effortlessly adopting his Grid persona the moment he'd entered the building. He'd kissed Ruth softly before they'd exited his car, drawing the kiss out as long as possible, knowing it would be the last one for some time. Even if everyone on the Grid had already known about them, he wouldn't have been able to kiss her there; they've already agreed to keep their interaction at work within the boundaries of professionalism. Work is work, in his mind, and his Grid persona essential to his ability to function as a leader in the murky world of espionage, not to mention its importance for Ruth too, so she's not seen as being the recipient of any kind of special treatment or favouritism from him. It wouldn't do either of them any good in the long run, and luckily for him, Ruth seems to agree.

The moment they'd stepped onto the Grid and after he'd been swamped by well-wishers, been teased a little, and had his crutch admired, saying a friend had designed it for him – knowing that admitting it had been Ruth would have raised an awful lot of questions that she wasn't ready to deal with just yet – he'd been accosted by Reynolds, who'd expressed his pleasure at having him back and in one piece before inviting him into his office.

Reynolds had told him he needs to visit the medical officer before he can begin work, insisting that he do that this morning, before promptly moving on to discussing the current ops, as if the medical clearance he needed was just a formality and something he didn't really care about in the slightest. He'd missed this, he'd realised in the middle of their conversation on how to use their various assets and agents most effectively to counteract the various threats that had reared their ugly head since his medical leave began.

“Very few people know this at the moment, Harry, and I know I can be assured of your discretion,” Jack had said then, seemingly out of the blue. “I'm moving over to Six in the new year and I want you to replace me here.” Harry had been momentarily speechless, so he'd continued, “You're a first rate agent, whose dedication, experience, quick thinking, and strong leadership few can rival, but let's face it - you're getting old, Harry. You've already got a dodgy knee, and who knows what new challenges you'll face as a result of these injuries? I'd like to put your name forward for my post, Harry. I know I couldn't leave the section in better hands.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Harry had finally managed to reply, “for your trust and your faith in me. I have been thinking a lot over the past week, and I too feel that it is time for me to move behind a desk. I'd be honoured to accept such a promotion.”

“Excellent. Excelllent, “Reynolds had practically beamed. “I'll suggest you and I'm sure you'll make the short list. You should be called to an interview soon. Better start preparing... Right, well, if there's nothing else?”

“Actually, Sir,” Harry had seized the opportunity, “there is one thing,” and he'd placed the S24 on the table.

“Ruth Evershed?” Reynolds had murmured, his eyebrows lifting in surprise. “Our new analyst?”

“Yes,” Harry had nodded.

“That's rather… quick, isn't it?”

“It is and it isn't, Sir,” Harry had attempted to explain. “We first met years ago, on holiday, but never exchanged contact details, something we both regretted later, so our current relationship is something we both desire very much.”

“She's more than ten years your junior, Harry,” Reynolds had frowned, “and you may very well be her boss soon. I would be remiss if I didn't ask how serious this relationship is for both of you, especially with you seeking promotion. There will be questions asked when this becomes known, Harry, make no mistake about it.”

“I know, Sir,” Harry had nodded. “That is why I am telling you now.”

“And?”

“I can only speak for myself,” he'd murmured, “but it's serious, Sir. I intend to marry her one day.”

“Very well,” Reynolds had agreed. “No vetting is necessary obviously, so I'll just sign this and get it added to your files.” Harry had thanked him and turned to go, but before he'd managed to do anything more than stand up and strap his crutch back on, Reynolds had added, “No wonder she'd seemed so distraught when you'd been caught in that blast.”

“Yes, Sir,” Harry had agreed, not really knowing what else to say.

“Take my advise, Harry,” he'd said then, coming round his desk to shake Harry's hand, “and marry her soon, or at least, get engaged before you become Section Head. It'll make life easier for both of you in the long run.” Then before Harry could reply, he'd smiled and added, “Send Miss Evershed to me, would you?”

And that's how Ruth finds herself in Reynolds' office, feeling a great deal more apprehensive and nervous than she has done at any point until now.

“Relax, Ruth,” he says with a smile as she walks into the room, “you look like you're about to be marched in front of a firing squad.”

She smiles at that, feeling some of the tension leave her at his words and making an effort to relax her shoulders. “Yes, Sir,” she murmurs. “Sorry, Sir.”

“Please, take a seat,” he invites and waits while she sits down. “You've only been with us a short time, Miss Evershed,” Reynolds continues retaking his own seat behind his desk, “but so far I have been impressed by your enthusiasm, dedication, and the willingness and speed with which you're learning the ropes.”

“Thank you, Sir,” she smiles shyly, pleased to get such praise from him. She doesn't know him that well, but he seems like a fair man and a good boss, so she's glad to have gained his approval.

“You're a hard worker and a good team player, Miss Evershed,” he continues, leaning forward to rest his forearms on the edge of his desk and giving her a hard stare before adding, “however, I cannot pretend not to be concerned when my most senior officer tells me that he is head-over-heels in love with you, barely a month after you've joined our section.”

She swallows, quickly dropping her gaze to her hands as she seeks to control her body's reaction to his suspicions. Breathe, she tells herself, you knew this would happen. She takes a deep breath and then another, seeking to control her fear and hold onto her love for Harry instead before she lifts her eyes once more and sets her jaw determinedly. Whatever it takes, she reminds herself sternly before opening her mouth to speak.

“I'm sorry you feel that way, Sir,” she replies, her voice firm yet respectful. “I assure you, you have nothing to fear from me, especially where Harry is concerned. I respect him and love him too much to ever do him harm. I'm sure he has explained to you that we met and fell in love more than three years ago, Sir. This isn't a mere fling, not is it an attempt by either of us to use the other for our own ends. I'm not seeking any special treatment at work, Sir, least of all from him, though I know that is what most will believe.”

“He is more than a decade older than you, Ruth,” he murmurs, softening his gaze a little and leaning further forward, giving the impression of really caring about her all of a sudden. “Does that not worry you?”

“No,” she shakes her head. “Why should it? I know he loves me. He has more than proved that to me, Sir, as I hope I have to him.”

“Very well,” he sighs as he leans back in his chair. “Let us hope all will turn out well in the end. Thank you, Miss Evershed.” And with that, she is dismissed.

 

* * *

 

“You all right?” Sophie asks as she passes by her desk.

Ruth sighs and shakes her head to clear it as she lifts her eyes to her colleague and smiles. “Fine,” she says. “You?”

“Yeah,” she smiles. “Fancy a cuppa? I was just going to go down to the canteen, see what cakes they have in today.”

“That sounds very tempting,” Ruth admits with a smile, grateful for the distraction. She's been dwelling on Reynolds' words much more than she knows she should.

Once they're seated at a table by the wall, Sophie opens the conversation by saying, “Harry's looking a lot better than I thought he would.”

“Oh?” she questions cautiously, lifting her tea and blowing gently across the surface of the hot liquid.

“He looks like he's actually rested,” Sophie continues. “The last time he was injured, he came back looking like he hadn't slept for a week and had subsisted entirely on a liquid diet while he'd been away if you know what I mean.”

“Did he?” she murmurs, trying to sound disinterested and taking a bite of her cake.

“Then again,” Sophie smiles mischievously, “last time he didn't have anyone to look after him.”

Her eyes dart up to hers in alarm before she can stop them and she can't help silently cursing herself as Sophie gins triumphantly and exclaims, “I knew it!”

“How?” Ruth can't help asking, realising that it's pointless to deny it. After all, she'd decided just a few days ago that they should tell people, and now that Reynolds knows, it's only a matter of time before everyone else finds out.

“At the hospital,” her companion smiles, “the way you looked at each other, and then I mentioned James and you gave me a completely blank look like you didn't know who I was talking about.” Ruth sighs and nods her head in defeat. That's what you get for working with spies, she thinks. They don't miss much. “You don't waste much time, do you, Ruth?” Sophie grins.

Ruth blushes in embarrassment before lifting her chin defiantly and saying, “It's not like that. I fell in love with Harry a long time ago and I'm not ashamed of it.”

“But you've only just met,” Sophie frowns.

“Actually we met on holiday in Greece, three years ago,” she explains, dropping her gaze to her hands that are fiddling with her cup, “but we never exchanged phone numbers. Harry was using a legend and I hadn't been vetted, or at least, he didn't know I had been as I had already been recruited by GCHQ at the time. I was going to give him my number, but then we missed each other on the last day and I couldn't. When I came here for my interview, that's when I realised who he was and I was...”

“Understandably upset,” Sophie breathes, looking really interested now.

“Yes,” she nods. “I thought he'd… used me, but it turns out I was wrong. Anyway, to cut a long story short, it didn't take us long to figure out that we were, _are,_ still in love with each other.”

“Gosh,” Sophie sighs, “That's so romantic.”

“Is it?” Ruth frowns, never having considered the possibility that people might see her relationship with Harry in a positive light.

“Of course it is!” she replies, looking a little scandalised that Ruth doesn't realise. “To meet like that, spend – what? A week? - together and then think you'll never see each other again, only to be reunited by chance and find out that you're both still secretly in love with each other? It's the stuff of novels, Ruth. Wait until I tell the others.”

Ruth is momentarily alarmed by this before she remembers that she was planning on telling everyone anyway and this might actually be a wonderful way for them to find out, seeing as Sophie seems to be completely enamoured of their story and will probably tell it all in a very positive light. Perhaps even Jason and Lucas won't mind in the end.

 

* * *

 

In the end, that's too much to hope for as Lucas seems visibly upset later that day when she goes around collecting mugs to make everyone a cuppa.

“Tea?” she asks as she stops before his desk.

“No thanks,” is his quick reply as raises his eyes to glance at her before turning back to work, his wounded gaze making her drop her own with shame. What has she done, she thinks dismally as she turns away from his desk and makes her way to the kitchen, her guilt making her stomach churn and her legs feel like lead.

“He'll get over it,” Jason murmurs, making her jump, so lost has she become in her thoughts.

“What?” she stammers, taking a step back from him, the kettle she's just been filling clasped tightly in her hands.

“Lucas,” Jason smiles. “He'll mope for a bit and then he'll be fine.”

She thinks about this for a moment as turns away and she flicks the kettle on. “Really?” she can't help asking.

“Of course,” he grins. “His pride's hurt. That's all,” he adds. “Harry beats the crap out of us in pretty much everything, all the time, despite being old. It's not easy having him to compete against.”

“But you're on the same side?” she replies in disbelief.

“We're men, Ruth,” he laughs. “We're always competing against each other, even when we're on the same team.”

“How... exhausting,” she smiles, shaking her head at him.

“It can be,” he agrees. “Don't worry about Lucas. He'll come round in the end.”

“Like you?” she asks hopefully.

“No need,” he grins. “I knew you didn't fancy me from the start, Ruth. Besides, I choose to look at it in a very different light.”

“Oh?”

He leans in and says cheekily, “I kissed Harry's girl and got away with it. How many men can say that?”

 


	27. Chapter 27

_Tuesday, December 25 th, 1984_

__A B &B near Exeter_ _

 

“Happy Christmas, Ruth,” he growls in her ear, the fingertips of his left hand trailing softly down her bare back to her buttocks and making her shiver.

“Mmmm,” she hums, unable to speak yet, the post-coital lassitude making her thoughts and movements sluggish. “Y' too,” she manages to mumble, burying her face further into the sweat-dampened skin of his chest and inhaling deeply, drinking in his wonderful, Harry essence.

She feels him chuckle and hears him murmur, “I believe I might have finally succeeded in shagging you senseless, my gorgeous, irresistible wife.” She feels his lips press against her temple before he adds, “Forgive me.”

“Never,” she sighs, rolling back so she can see his eyes that are dancing with merriment and pride. “You're going to have to spend the rest of your life making it up to me.”

“And how exactly would you like me to do that?” he grins.

“That's for me to know and for you to find out,” she smiles, then she adds in a conspiratorial whisper, “but what we just did this morning is a very good start.”

“Hmmm,” he hums, pretending to look sceptical. “I think there might be a flaw in your logic there, Ruth. You want me to make up for shagging you senseless by shagging you senseless some more?”

“Sounds perfectly logical to me,” she sighs as she wiggles closer to him and wraps her arms around him, smiling in contented bliss.

 

* * *

 

“Breakfast,” he murmurs softly, pushing aside her hair and gently kissing her cheek.

“Mmm,” she moans, rolling over and stretching before opening her eyes and asking, “What time is it?”

“Nine,” he smiles.

“What?!” she exclaims, suddenly sitting up. “Why didn't you wake me? We're going to be late.”

“Relax, Ruth,” he replies, taking a seat on the edge of the bed and setting the tray down beside him. “There's plenty of time. We're not meeting everyone until ten.”

“But yesterday we said nine, didn't we?” she frowns, taking the mug of tea he's holding out to her.

“I changed it this morning,” he confesses. “I was sure we weren't the only ones who'd like a little lie in this morning. It's Christmas and besides, one hour won't make that much difference to our plans.”

“But they'll all think we were...” she tails off, blushing.

“They'll think that anyway, Ruth,” he grins, feeling his heart overflow with love for her. “That's what most people do on their wedding night.”

“Right,” she nods, feeling rather stupid. “Of course they do. So… um… who's coming exactly?”

“Well, Jason and Sophie couldn't stay as they're on call today,” he replies, “They went home late last night, and Sarah's spending the day with her folks, so she left early this morning. Lucas is still here. Jane and Simon are coming and the children. Maria is too, isn't she?” She nods, so he continues, “with Andreas, presumably. John and Lesley, of course. They wouldn't miss it for the world. Your mother, my dad, Malcolm and his mother are meeting us at the pub the other end for a late lunch and I think that's it, isn't it? Everyone else left yesterday after the reception.”

“Good,” she nods absently as she begins eating a slice of toast with jam.

“What's worrying you, Ruth?” he asks gently, brushing her knee with his fingertips as he valiantly tries and mostly fails to not notice she's naked below the sheet that she's wedged between her body and upper arms.

“I haven't ridden a horse since I was in boarding school,” she confesses, beginning to regret letting Harry and the children talk her into riding along the beach to the pub with some of their wedding guests on Christmas day.

“You'll be fine, Ruth,” he smiles, squeezing her knee. “None of us are expert riders and we're only riding down the beach to the pub. Besides, you've ridden me plenty of times and I'm sure that counts for something.” He winks at her and grins, making her smile and blush, feeling a little ridiculous.

“You're awful, Harry,” she sighs, pushing aside the tray and moving to straddle him, draping her arms around his neck as she leans in and murmurs against his lips, “and I love you for it, my naughty, dangerous man.”

He hums in pleasure, letting his hands roam over her naked body that she's finally released from the confines of the bedclothes and pulling her against him, and it doesn't take long for her to feel him stir between them. “I believe we have time for a quickie, Mrs Pearce,” he growls as they surface for air.

“I'm sure we do, Harry,” she responds, wiggling her bum against him and causing him to groan and grip her flesh tighter, “but it's not going to happen if you keep calling me by the wrong name.”

“Bloody feminist,” he mumbles against her skin as he buries his face in her neck and turns, pressing her into the bed with his weight.

“Damned right,” she sighs as she reaches a hand down to unclasp his trousers, “and don't you ever forget it again. Now why in heaven's name did you get dressed this morning? Didn't you know that that's why they provide hotel robes?”

“I've no fucking clue,” he groans, pulling away from her to quickly strip and remove the tray from the bed, giving her a delicious view of his well-toned body. He's put a bit of weight on round the middle over the last few months, she sees with delight, hampered as he was by his injuries, and she's sure that now he's going to take over as Section Head in the new year, it'll only get worse.

“Love handles,” she murmurs out loud as he covers her body with his once more.

“Do not,” he objects, lifting his head to frown down at her.

“Not yet,” she smiles, “but you seem to be working on them.” His frown turns into a scowl, so she lifts her head to kiss his lips before pulling back and adding, “I love them. I love you. Everything about you, Harry, including your very sexy pout when you're not happy. Now I thought you said something about a quickie?”


End file.
